Letting Go
by Aussie73
Summary: After her experience on the Prometheus, Sam and Jack find themselves getting closer. AU of Grace onwards. Rated M for later chapters, but nothing explicit!
1. Prologue

_Everyone and his mother has done a 'Grace' fic; I know! But what the hey! As always; read and I hope you enjoy! The recognizable dialogue comes from the episode Grace, which was written by Damien Kindler._

* * *

Sam looked blearily at the hallucination of her Dad. "Are you happy, Sam?" he asked. 

"What?"

"Just answer the question."

Sam managed a small smirk. "Well, at the moment things are a little rough, but in general, sure I'm happy."

"No you're not," Jacob Carter immediately contradicted her. "You're content, you're satisfied, you're in control and that's the problem."

Had he always been this cryptic, or was it just the hallucination? "Okay, I'm really not following here," Sam told him.

"I'm saying you're missing something vital from your life. And the sad part is you have no idea what I'm talking about."

_Too true._ "Dad, I am happy. I've seen and done things most people couldn't even dream of. I have an incredible life."

"And yet you're alone."

_Oh God … when did her dad suddenly decide to become a yenta?_

She tried to blow him off with a smart ass response. "Well lately, the dating scene's been a little stale, but then again I am marooned on a space ship."

"No, always. For as long as she was alive, your mother showed me a world beyond just ambition and career." Sam gulped back the tears that threatened. Even after all these years, she still missed and needed her mom. "She gave my life meaning and balance, and it was my honor to love her for the short time she was with me. And if I were young again and I met her for the first time even knowing her fate, I would do it all again. That is love."

Sam was now crying openly for her mom for the first time in years.

"Sam," her dad continued, "I know you've denied yourself the experience because you think it must inevitably end in pain and loneliness. It's time to let go of the things that prevent you from finding happiness. You deserve to love someone and be loved in return."

Sam sniffed back her tears, then looked around to find that her dad had disappeared.

_Letting go … of what?_

* * *

Sam watched as the little girl disappeared, wondering just why she seemed so familiar. Then a figure appeared in shadow. A very familiar figure. 

"All right Carter, come on, on your feet let's go," Colonel Jack O'Neill said.

Sam didn't bother to get up – he was just an hallucination, right? "I was wondering when you were going to show up," she offered.

"You just gonna sit there?"

"Too tired, sir." She didn't think she'd ever been so tired in her life.

The Colonel hunkered down opposite her with a small groan. "Samantha …," he practically purred, "I'm a figment of your imagination. You're gonna call me sir?"

"Old habit. Sorry," Sam replied, trying to ignore the funny sensation caused by him purring her first name.

"So, you gonna save yourself or what?"

_Straight to the point as always, mon Colonel?_ "I've tried."

"Just giving up then?"

"I just don't know what else to do right now."

"You'll think of something."

She liked his confidence in her, but did not share it. "Came to give me a pep talk?"

"That's what friends are for."

"Friends," Sam mused.

"Hey. This is you talking here. Might as well be honest."

Weird – he seemed to be the only one of her figments that knew he was a figment.

"What if I quit the Air Force?" Sam asked. "Would that change anything or is it just an excuse?"

"I would never ask you to give up your career," the Colonel replied steadily.

That was no answer! "Because you don't feel anything for me?" Sam pressed.

"Carter …".

"I'd let you go right now if I knew."

"That easy?"

"I didn't say it would be easy," Sam replied. She treasured the unusual bond she had with the enigmatic older man and could usually lock her attraction to him deep inside. But they'd shared what could only be described as a 'moment' in her lab when he'd gone off to Honduras a couple weeks earlier in search of Daniel.

Since then, she'd found herself pondering what it would be like if she or the Colonel – if she or Jack – ever left the chain of command. Would they be good together, or had she built things up so much that no mere mortal could live up to it?

"Then what's stopping you if you really wanna know?" the Colonel asked, his dark eyes bright with curiosity.

"I'm trying," Sam replied.

"Maybe it's not me that's the problem here," the Colonel said thoughtfully. Then he gave a quirky grin that lengthened the adorable dimples in his face. "Let's face it, I'm not that complex."

Not that complex – hah! The man was like an onion – layer upon layer upon layer.

She blinked and forced herself to focus on the handsome … _no; not handsome!_ … older man. "Me?"

"Sam. I'm a safe bet."

"As long as I'm thinking about you, setting my sights on what I think is unobtainable, there's no chance of being hurt by someone else," Sam said.

"Jacob was right; you deserve more. I will always be there for you, no matter what. Believe me."

"So what now?" Sam said, resigned to the fact that she really couldn't do anything about her relationship – or lack thereof – with Jack O'Neill while she was stuck in this nebula.

"Go save your ass."

Sam would have laughed if her head hadn't been killing her. Such an O'Neill thing to say.

"One last thing," she said, then paused. What harm could it do? One sweet, wonderful kiss; soft lips on hers, his hot moist tongue stroking inside her mouth, a long-fingered hand sliding into her hair to hold her to him …

The Colonel tilted his head in inquiry.

"Never mind," Sam said.

* * *

Sam struggled to consciousness to find herself in the SGC infirmary, with the Colonel sitting nearby. "Hey," he said. 

"Jack," Sam murmured hazily.

"Excuse me?" the Colonel blurted out.

"Sorry, sir." Sam's pale cheeks got a renewed rush of blood.

"Yes, well, a massive concussion will tend to disorient one."

She always knew when he was uncomfortable – he became the grammar warden, belying the dumb soldier act he liked to put on. "How long was I out there?" she asked.

"It's all relative Carter, that whole time space continuum thing," the Colonel said.

"Sir," Sam prompted.

"Four days."

_Wow._ "Could have sworn it was weeks," Sam said.

"Teal'c and Daniel say hi. They're planning a little bit of a shindig for when you're up and around. There's talk of cake."

"Cake?"

"My idea."

_Of course_, Sam thought with an inner giggle. "Can't wait," she said.

"Need anything? Magazine? Yo-yo?"

"I'm fine," Sam told him.

"Yes, you are."

"Thank you, sir," she added.

"For what?"

Sam thought better of what she'd been about to say. "Nothing."

"Think nothing of it. I've got plenty of that."

Sam closed her eyes and heard a small girl sing 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star'.

_Let go … of what?_

Nope. Not a clue.


	2. Worms

**One week later:**

The cake was good.

The company was even better.

Janet and Cassie Fraiser, Daniel, Teal'c and … yes, the Colonel.

Who was wearing cream khakis, a tight white long-sleeved tee with a loose light blue cotton shirt over it. Creepy …

But considering he looked so damn fine in it, she wasn't about to complain!

_Ahem._

He even wore the sandals from her hallucination, his long bare toes wiggling as he talked with … okay, listened to … Cassie. Those toes were bent at some strange angles – too many years of cramming them into combat boots – but each wiggle made her wonder just how maneuverable the rest of his body was.

_No! Bad Sam!_

What the hell was up with her?

Her cell rang at that point, interrupting the low buzz of happy chatter in her small house. "Sorry," she muttered, and flipped open her phone.

Mark? Her brother didn't call very often – he'd told her he was sick of always getting her answering service. She thought guiltily that she'd better pick up this time. "Hi, Mark," she said.

"Hey, Sam," Mark replied. "I was wondering if you'd do me a favor?"

One of the few things Mark had in common with their dad – no beating around the bush. "Depends …," Sam replied cautiously.

"I've got a friend …"

"No."

"He's called Pete …"

"No."

"He's a nice …"

"No."

"He's a cop …"

"No! What part of N-O don't you get, Mark?" Sam asked heatedly, trying to ignore the curious stares she was garnering from her friends and team-mates.

"Okay! Okay," Mark said. "Geez, just trying to play helpful big brother here, you know!" he grumbled playfully.

"I know," Sam said, feeling a sudden rush of affection. "But, please, no match-making, huh? I'm happy with my life the way it is."

"But … you're alone."

Sam opened her lips, and was distracted by a sudden burst of laughter coming from … Teal'c. He was being set upon by Janet Fraiser, who was attempting to climb his big body for the candy he held way above her head.

"C'mon, T! Don't tease Napoleon!" her CO said from around his bottle of soda, desperately trying to hide the smirk.

"Hey! Don't call my mom Napoleon!" Cassie squawked, launching herself at the unrepentant Colonel.

He put the soda down and got his unofficial niece into a loose sleeper hold, then yelped when she drove her hands under his tee shirt.

"Big needles await you, Colonel," Janet said, squealing as Teal'c got up and slung her over his shoulder, then moved out of the living room – presumably to the kitchen. God knows, the Jaffa was always hungry.

"Oh, bring it on, Doc!" the Colonel heaved, distracted by his tickling bout with Cassie Fraiser.

"Sam! Rescue me from the madman!" Janet wailed dramatically from the kitchen.

"Do not interfere, Major Carter," Teal'c chimed in as stolidly as always – although anyone who knew him well could hear the laughter in his tone. "I will have my revenge on the small woman."

Oh yeah; never under-estimate the Jaffa revenge thing.

"I'm not alone, Mark," Sam told her brother softly.

"Sure doesn't sound like it," her brother laughed. "Are those your team-mates?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Though I think they've regressed to childhood," she added, watching bemused when Daniel – the serious, sober linguist – put his book to one side and joined the Colonel against Cassie.

Sam and Mark chatted for a few more minutes, then he had to go pick up his kids from school. She wished him goodbye, then watched as her friends milled around, chatting, laughing and play-fighting.

_Let go … of this?_ She snorted into her soda at the notion. So what if she wasn't dating? There were more important things in life.

And the five people currently acting like complete asses in her house were just a small part of it.

No way was she letting go of this!

"Oh, very ladylike, Carter," the Colonel offered, sitting down next to her, his cheeks flushed from exertion, his hair reaching new heights in insanity. He looked … positively post-coital. Sexy as hell.

"Bite me," she groused under her breath, wondering just when her mind had started occupying the gutter around this man.

"Carter?"

_Oh, crap. Ears like a damn German Shepherd!_ "Uhh … bite me, sir?" she offered.

The Colonel snickered and he patted her knee. "Better, Major," he said lightly. He squeezed said knee and added in lower tones, "And that insubordination thing? I'm very proud."

"What can I say? I learned from the master," Sam replied, trying to ignore the warmth flooding her entire system from his brief touch.

"Huh … you should really make a beeping noise when you back-track like that," the Colonel said, his eyes twinkling as he sucked down the last of his soda.

Sam laughed and leaned over the Colonel to snag another slice of cake.

"And no giggling, Major!"

"Yes, sir!" she giggled again. Despite the long-running theme about her giggling, Sam Carter was not a giggler. But, somehow, her rough, cynical, battle-hardened CO brought it out in her. He could be such an ass at times.

"Hey, you took the last piece!" the man accused her.

"It's my welcome-home party," she defended herself around the cake.

"But … the last piece, Carter?"

Sam eyed her CO through narrowed eyes. Was that a whine from the big tough Colonel? His brown eyes were wide and pleading and his sexy lower lip … _no, not sexy!_ … pushed forward slightly.

Ignoring the tempting notion of kissing that pout off his lips, she sighed and broke the remaining cake in half, handing it to him. "There; happy?" she said.

He bolted the piece of cake as if afraid she would change her mind. "Extremely," he said, giving her a broad smile.

And that strange fluttering sensation in her stomach started up. Colonel O'Neill smirked an awful lot, but he smiled rarely. It was a shame, because he had a lovely smile, but she knew he wasn't a happy person.

He was content, he was satisfied, he was …

Oh, crap. Wasn't that what her hallucination had said to her?

Then she was distracted when his pink tongue snaked out to sweep up some stray crumbs.

_You want him._

_I can't have him._

_You still want him._

"Carter?" the owner of the enticing pink tongue queried. "You okay?"

Sam blinked back to her surroundings and blushed. "Uh … yes, sir," she said, then was caught flat-footed by a mammoth yawn. "Sorry," she added after the yawn.

The Colonel chuckled. "And I think that's our cue to shove off!" he said. "Everyone; out!" he barked.

With evident reluctance, Sam's friends began to leave her house, kissing her and wishing her a quick recovery. The Colonel lingered behind and began gathering up crockery.

"Sir … you don't have to do that," Sam objected.

"A-ah! I helped make the mess, I should help clean it up!" her CO said. "Besides, you're supposed to be resting, not going on a spring-cleaning spree!"

Sam yawned again. "Knock yourself out, sir," she said.

"Kay." The Colonel whistled off-key as he began puttering around her living room, cleaning methodically.

_It's A Hard Knock Life_. From the film 'Annie'. She knew the Colonel liked musicals – he was the biggest Wizard of Oz fan – but Annie? "Funny, sir."

He snickered and moved into the kitchen, where she could hear him load up the dishwasher. "I thought so," he offered.

He came back in with a teapot. "Chamomile," he said, pouring the herbal tea into a cup and passing it to her.

"Thanks, sir," she said, wrapping her hand around the warm cup.

"So … what were you shouting at your brother about?" the Colonel inquired with naked curiosity.

Sam chuckled and sipped carefully at the hot brew. _Mmmmm, bliss._ Her CO made a mean cup of tea. "Oh, he was trying to set me up with one of his friends … again."

"Ah."

"Pathetic, isn't it?"

"Hey, I'm not exactly burning up the social scene myself," her CO said. Then he snickered. "Of course; I haven't gotten to the stage where my brother is trying to fix me up with someone."

She would've punched him, but remembered that he was her superior officer. "You don't have a brother, sir," she said.

"Right." Another snicker came from the older man. "Guess that makes me the lucky one, huh?"

"I don't know …". Sam shrugged and took another sip of her tea. "As annoying as he can be at times, I'm glad I have him around."

"Even though he keeps trying to set you up with goobers?"

"The last one was a goober," Sam laughed. "He's a scientist at Cal-Tech, but one evening with him made me suddenly understand why you don't like scientists."

"I like some scientists," Colonel O'Neill said, sipping his own tea. "You and Daniel are pretty cool. But generally … you're right. I don't have much time for scientists." He snickered. "They tend to remind me how dumb I am."

Sam closed her eyes, praying to a god she wasn't sure she believed in for patience. "Sir, you're not dumb. I know your IQ, remember?" She was ashamed to admit that she'd been shocked when she'd learned his IQ was the same as hers.

Her CO tapped his forehead. "Yeah, okay," he said. "But you gotta admit … I'm crap with physics. I don't understand a tenth of what you're talking about."

Yes. Sam could agree with that. "You're not meant to, sir," she said. "Think about it; if you understood everything that Daniel and I did, you wouldn't need us. And we don't have your capacity for planning strategy … and that's why we need you."

"Cool," the man said. "Quite the little mutual appreciation society we got goin' on today, huh?"

Sam smiled. "Yes, sir," she said.

"So … back to the goobers."

_Oy!_ When had he suddenly become so interested in what passed for her personal life? "Sir …," she protested mildly.

"Call me Jack. So … back to the goobers," her CO persisted.

Jack? He wanted her to call him Jack? She remembered that Friends episode where the Chandler guy said, "Can open … worms everywhere." Would she be starting something she couldn't finish?

No … she could do it. They'd worked together for seven years – she could call him Jack when they were off duty. "Okay, sir," she agreed. "But you have to call me Sam."

"Okay, Carter … Sam." The man gave her a sheepish grin. "Hard to break the habit of years," he offered.

"Yeah," she agreed. "So … back to the goobers?"

He nodded and leaned back against the settee, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Funny how … right he looked sitting there like that. _No, don't go there, Sam!_

"Back to the goobers," he confirmed. "How many has he tried to fix you up with?"

"I think … six now," Sam said. "Seven if you count Pete."

"Pete?"

"The latest goober," Sam laughed, draining the last of her tea and pouring another cup. "He's a cop."

"Hey, cops can be pretty cool," the Col … Jack … pointed out. "Maybe you should give this one a chance."

Sam shook her head. "Not interested," she said. "Besides … I think it would be too hard to have a relationship with someone when they can't know what I do for a living."

"Carter, Carter, Carter." Jack shook his head. "Going on a date isn't a relationship. You're still young – you should get out there and enjoy yourself. Leave being alone for when you're aged and decrepit, like me."

Sam snorted. "You're hardly aged and decrepit," she said. "I've seen you in action, remember?"

The wide grin on her CO's face made her realize how her words could have been taken. And now she did punch him. But lightly. "Mind out of the gutter, sir!" she chided, a slight blush creeping up her cheekbones. Damn her fair complexion!

Jack laughed. "Sorry, Sam; couldn't resist," he said. "But seriously, you deserve to enjoy yourself. Flirt, laugh, do the things most gorgeous women like you do."

"I've never really been much for flirting," Sam said thoughtfully. "Except … during the first few years on SG-1. What happened to that?"

Jack shrugged his shoulders. "Damn Zatarc detector," he said. "That's when we stopped flirting." He poured himself another cup of tea. "I've missed that."

"Me too." After the enforced confession of their deeper than CO/2IC feelings, they'd both become so professional in their interactions that Sam had worried that they'd truly killed the comradeship they'd shared. But, after this day of laughter, flirting and camaraderie she'd dismissed her fears. "But maybe we can start over."

"I'd like that," Jack said. He leaned over and presented his hand. "Friends?" he asked.

"Uh … friends," Sam managed to get out, enjoying the feel of her smaller hand being enveloped in his large one.

He gave her another dimple-displaying grin. "Cool," he said lightly.

Never one to sit still for long, he got up and began to peruse her bookcase. "Physics … cosmology … Da Vinci Code …," he mumbled as he went through its contents. He turned and smirked. "Danielle Steel?"

"Mind candy," Sam replied, unruffled.

"Hey, I can relate, but I thought your big honkin' brain never took a break!" her CO teased.

"Nice to know I can still surprise you," Sam said around another yawn.

"Oh, you can shock the hell out of me, Carter," Jack replied. He pushed the fluffy romance back in its place, then shook his head. "Time for bed, young woman," he told her.

Sam pushed back the oh-so-inappropriate comment she'd been about to make in favor of another yawn. "Yes, sir," she muttered sleepily. "I'll see you out."

She went with him to the door and shivered as the cool night breeze hit her. She looked at him, eyeing the jeans and sandals he wore. "You going to be warm enough, Colonel?"

"Yeah," Jack said. He patted his stomach. "Think I'll walk fast – burn some of this cake off. And you try to stay away from the base till 0900 tomorrow."

"I'll try, sir," Sam said.

"Good." Jack paused, then dipped his unruly gray head and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. "See you tomorrow, Sam!" he said, then strolled down the path, turning at the gate to wave at her.

Sam returned the wave and went back into the house with a small shiver – it had gotten cold out there. She leaned back against the wall, her fingers touching the tingling cheek. Oh yeah, big honkin' can of worms!


	3. Stupidity

_Set just after the events of 'Fallout', but remember it's an AU!_

* * *

**Several weeks later:**

Sam watched as the man battered ceaselessly, rhythmically, at the punch bag, knowing that he was venting a lot of frustration and anger.

She felt that anger herself. They'd worked so hard to try to prevent the unstable naquadria from destroying that planet, but did the Kelownans and the others care? No! They were too bent on blaming each other!

And now …

And now …

"Jonas?" she said gently.

The young man turned and scowled. "What?" he barked, then grimaced. "Sorry, Major," he said. "I thought you were … someone else."

"I'm sorry we couldn't save Kianna," Sam said. Who knew the Goa'uld would have had a poison pill in her tooth?

"Me too," Jonas said. "But in a way, Kianna died when that Goa'uld took over her." He shrugged and grabbed a towel to blot his face. "It's still … hard, though."

"So … what now?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Jonas admitted. "Your people have offered to help us find a new world to live on, but … I don't think I'll be welcome there." He scowled again. "I don't regret coming here, Major, after Doctor Jackson's accident, but …".

"Yeah." Sam didn't know what to say to him. The young man was facing the possibility of exile from his own people for the second time in less than two years. What could you say? "Commissary?"

"All right," Jonas said. "Just give me a few minutes to get changed."

"Okay. I'll meet you there."

"Okay. And thanks, Major."

* * *

Jonas Quinn looked at Major Carter as she absorbed her blue Jell-O. She'd changed very little in the months since he'd returned to Kelowna. Just as beautiful as ever, but she seemed more … content.

He could admit it. He'd nursed a small crush on the beautiful woman during their time together on SG-1, but he'd never presumed to do anything about it. He could see that she and Colonel O'Neill were devoted to each other, although they couldn't pursue anything due to the regulations.

Jonas – although not military himself – knew enough about military life to understand the regulations against fraternization. They made sense, but he still thought it was a shame. He'd never been in love, although he could have loved Kianna given time, but he hoped he would have that experience someday.

He couldn't recall exactly when he'd first realized that Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill loved each other. There was just … something there. The looks, the small gestures, the smiles, the silent communication.

And it seemed to have deepened during his months-long absence. There was still the caring, but their interactions had changed. Become more flirtatious, without ever crossing the line.

"Jonas Quinn; please report to General Hammond's office!" the tannoy blared out.

Just as Jonas was about to have his first banana in months.

He loved the Earth fruit and had missed the unusual sweet treat, the soft texture …

"Go on, Jonas," Major Carter said, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Ah. Right." The young man stared forlornly at the peeled banana, then stuffed it into his mouth in one go.

"Jonas! That's disgusting!" the Major laughed as she ushered him out of the commissary.

Sooner than might have been expected, Jonas said, "It was the last one." Then he laughed also.

He'd missed his friends on SG-1 more than he'd realized. He vowed that he would keep in touch more often when he left again.

* * *

Jack O'Neill glared at the retreating backs of the Kelownan, Andari and Tiranian delegates as they left Hammond's office. "Nice to see them reaching agreement on something at last," he said sarcastically.

"Colonel," Hammond chided mildly.

"Right," Jack said. "That poor kid." He'd never admit it, but he'd become quite fond of the young Kelownan during his time on SG-1, and knew that this – on top of Kianna Cyr's death – was going to hit him hard.

Speaking of whom … The young fair-haired man crossed through the briefing room, laughing with Carter. _Ah, Christ …_ Jack grimaced. This was gonna be like swatting a spaniel puppy unjustly. Thank God Hammond was the CO!

Teal'c came into Hammond's office and nodded his head to the General. "You were unable to change the Langarans' minds," he stated/queried.

"Damn stubborn, foolish …". Hammond broke off abruptly as Jonas and Carter walked in. "SG-1; can you wait in the briefing room, please?" he asked.

That way Jonas had some privacy, but also knew that his friends were nearby should he need them. Jack felt a renewed appreciation for General Hammond – he was a peach among two-stars.

Jack ushered his 'kids' into the briefing room, closing the door gently as Hammond and Jonas sat down.

"Sir; what's going on?" Carter asked him, wide blue eyes filled with anxiety.

"Just … wait, Carter," Jack said, giving his 2IC and friend a small smile. Somehow, and he didn't know how, he and Sam really had made a good beginning in regaining their early friendship. They'd been out a few times as friends – a movie, pizza, stargazing on the mountaintop – and he'd begun to truly realize what an amazing person she was.

And if, occasionally, he wanted to grab her and kiss her senseless … well, he could chalk that up to the simple fact that she was incredibly hot.

_Ahem._

The door opened and Jonas – several shades paler than his usual healthy tan – walked out. Carter shot to her feet and went over to him. "God, Jonas … sit down," she said.

"I'm okay, thanks, Major," Jonas said, managing a small smile. "Seems I was right – I'm not welcome back with my people. General Hammond's agreed to let me stay here again."

Crap. Poor kid. Jack fiddled awkwardly with a loose button as Carter gave the young man a gentle hug. "So … you wanna go get drunk?" he asked.

"Yes," Jonas said emphatically, wrapping an arm around Carter.

"Okay; my place, 1900 hours," Jack said. "T? You up for a bit of drunken stupidity?"

"Jaffa do not drink, O'Neill," Teal'c said.

"Ah, forget that!" Jack argued. "You don't have the snake anymore – besides, it was probably some Goa'uld who made that rule."

Teal'c tilted an eyebrow – Jack still wondered where he hid the fish-hook – then dipped his head. "You have a point, O'Neill," he admitted. "I will try some of your … beer tonight."

"Cool!" Jack clapped his hands together. "Carter? Daniel? You up for drunken stupidity?"

"Sounds good, sir," Carter said, looking entirely too cozy with Jonas's young strong arm around her.

Crap. Was he jealous? Of Jonas?

Carter was a hugger. She'd hugged Teal'c, Daniel, Hammond, even Thor. And now Jonas. Was he the only one who didn't rate a Carter hug?

"I'm in too," Daniel said. "What about Janet?"

Jack raised his eyebrows, mouthing _Janet?_ at his 2IC. She raised her own eyebrows, mouthing _Keep your mouth shut … Sir_ in return. He loved how she did that – respectful insubordination. It was a gift.

* * *

**1845 hours:**

Sam knocked on the door to her CO's house. "It's open!" the Colonel … Jack … yelled.

_Of course it is._ Sam shook her head, then pushed the door open, entering the Colonel's pretty little one-story. She hadn't been in his house very often, but she always liked it. It was simple, homey, welcoming and just screamed _Jack_.

"It's just me, sir," she said, following the sounds of clattering coming from somewhere near the kitchen.

"Hey, Sam." Her CO appeared dressed in blue jeans and black tee shirt, and took the six-pack she'd brought off her. He'd evidently just come out of the shower, for his feet were bare and his hair was damp and stuck up at random angles, begging for her fingers to smooth it down. "Go through," he added.

She stuffed her hands into her pockets before they obeyed the unspoken command and headed into the living room. How come he could step out of the shower into grungy jeans and tee and look so … sexy? It wasn't fair.

Although her libido told her it was quite fair. Nothing like a bit of candy for the eyes, after all.

Heh.

* * *

**Several hours later:**

Huh. Who could've known their favorite Jaffa would prove such a lightweight? Without the benefit of the snake – wow, her CO was really rubbing off on her! – his tolerance for alcohol was even lower than Daniel's. And that was saying something.

He'd passed out after his third beer and was now stretched across Jack's futon, sleeping like the dead. He was even drooling slightly. It was … kinda cute.

Sam snickered into her beer. "Check out Sleeping Beauty," she said, surprised at the slight slur in her voice. Hmm … perhaps she wasn't entirely sober herself.

"Awwww, he looks cute!" Janet said. She dug out her cellphone. "I have to get me a picture!" Her slight Southern accent had broadened, indicating that she too was less than sober.

She leaned over Teal'c and aimed the small camera-phone at his face. A large hand shot up and took the phone out of her hand. "Do not, Doctor Fraiser," the Jaffa said.

"Teal'c!" Janet squeaked, falling backward in shock and landing in Daniel's lap. Not that he seemed particularly upset by that, Sam mused, judging from the arms he slipped around her to hold her against him.

"Nice … nice reflexshes, T," Jonas mumbled around a tequila shot. "Thish izh … ish good, Ja'!" He launched himself at an unsuspecting Jack and hugged him. "Thanks, Ja'! You're … you're the … greatest!"

Jack hugged the young Kelownan briefly, awkwardly, then tried to peel him off. "Uh … someone? A little help here? I got a Jonas round my neck."

Sam giggled and helped her CO. Then found herself with her very own Jonas round her neck. "And you're the greatest too, Sham!" Jonas told her. "I love you."

Sam patted his back. "Of course you do, Jonas," she said soothingly.

Jonas released her. "Oh, not like that." He wagged his finger dramatically. "Maybe if you weren't already taken, but …". He squinted around, then ran his hand through his hair, looking disoriented. "What wazh I shayin'?"

"Nothing, Jonas Quinn," Teal'c said. He popped open another bottle of beer and guzzled half of it down. Seems that little power nap had done him some good. "We should play a game."

"Christ, T; how old are you again?" the Colonel groused.

"Aw, don' be a parter-poopy, Jack!" Janet complained, leaning back into Daniel's embrace. "Or a pooter-parpy." She laughed hysterically. "Uhh … Howzabout Truth or Dare?"

"Yeah!" Daniel said enthusiastically, tightening his arms around Janet's small frame and giving a loud smacking kiss to the top of her head.

"Fine, fine," the Colonel grumbled. "But I'm going first." His hand shot up as both Daniel and Janet opened their mouths to protest. "A-ah! My house, my rules." He smirked. "So … who shall I pick on first?"

* * *

**The next day – Briefing Room, SGC:**

"So; in summation," Daniel said, "P2K 743 is a peaceful planet, no evidence of inhabitants, no sign of Goa'uld activity for centuries, plenty of naqadah that seems to be pretty close to the surface. Definitely worth a visit."

"Thank you, Doctor Jackson," Hammond said. "Colonel? Anything to add?"

Sam snickered as she heard a muffled groan from the man sitting next to her. "Ah … no, sir," he said. "I thought Daniel said it all very well."

"That's all well and good, Colonel, but I'd prefer you to look me in the eyes when you address me."

_Ooooh, looks like someone hadn't had their coffee this morning!_

Another muffled groan came from the Colonel and he raised his head. "Nothing to add, sir," he said.

"Ah … Colonel O'Neill? Your eyes …".

A magnificent scowl appeared on the Colonel's face as Sam and the rest of SG-1 looked at his kohled eyes. "It's a long story, sir," he said.

"Would it have anything to do with the drunken phone call I got last night from you, Major?"

Their commanding officer was not a man to be under-estimated. Sam went red. "I'm sorry, General," she said, suddenly remembering the phone call wherein she had expressed her deep love for all bald men. "It was a … dare." Lame. But true. And she got stupid when she drank.

"A dare?" A pained look appeared on Hammond's face. "Colonel; get that stuff off your face, then you will explain yourself."

"I … can't, sir," the Colonel said. "I've tried, but the stuff's like magic marker."

Sam could sympathize – the few times she wore eye make-up it was the devil's own job to get the stuff off. "Try Vaseline, sir," she said. "Takes the stuff off nicely."

The Colonel nudged her. "And you couldn't have told me this before the briefing?" he complained under his breath.

"Sorry, sir," Sam lied. Hell, he and Jonas had ruined her favorite sneakers thanks to an impromptu game of keepaway! He was totally asking for it.

The Colonel shot her a look that promised retribution, then rose smoothly to his feet. _Aged and decrepit, my ass!_ "Permission to go get rid of this crap … sir?"

"Please do, Colonel." Evidently their CO's vast barrel of patience was becoming sorely depleted.

With another look at Sam that avowed vengeance, the Colonel departed to seek out a jar of Vaseline.

_Oh, bring it on, sir!_, Sam thought.

* * *

_Stay tuned for a big honkin' flashback chapter!_


	4. Stupidity II

_And here's the big honkin' flashback chapter!_

* * *

The Colonel returned to the briefing room, now minus that horrible black eyeliner, and took his seat next to Sam. "Sir," he said, noting that Jonas Quinn was now present.

Ah, right; time to fess up.

"I'm waiting, Colonel," Hammond said.

Jack looked at the older man, wondering if that was a touch of laughter in his voice. But he couldn't tell – Hammond could out poker-face Teal'c when he was of a mind. "Ah … yes, sir," he acquiesced.

He took a deep breath. "Once upon a time …"

"Colonel."

General Hammond used the word 'Colonel' with many different inflections. This particular inflection said 'get to the point quickly or you'll be scrubbing the latrines at McMurdo for the rest of your career'.

Damn it.

_Quit stalling, O'Neill!_

* * *

**Flashback to previous night begins here:**

Jack looked around for his first victim, his evil eye landing on his 2IC. "Carter …," he drawled. "Truth or dare?"

"Uhm … truth," Sam declared.

"Do you deliberately confuse me with techno-babble to get me to leave you alone?"

"Dare," Sam said quickly, her eyes skittering away from his.

He knew it. "Truth, Carter; you picked truth," he reminded her.

"Double dare, double dare!" his 2IC yelled, bouncing agitatedly in her seat.

"Okay …". Jack paused. Evilly. And grinned. Again evilly. "You have to call up General Hammond and tell him you love all bald men."

Sam barely hesitated – wow, she must be really plowed – and stretched out a long slim arm to grab the phone. And then she dialed, pausing to stick her tongue out at Jack and blow a raspberry.

"Oh … my … God!" Janet squeaked from her position on Daniel's lap. "She's gonna do it!"

"Go, Sam!" Daniel crowed, nuzzling Janet's neck with his lips. Daniel was so funny when he was drunk, although he tended to get … affectionate. Seemed as though the evil little Doc didn't mind too much.

"Good evening, Sergeant," Sam said in a low purring tone that got Jack's … attention. Oh, yeah. "This is Major Carter. Could you transfer me to General Hammond, please?"

Hell, if she ever used that voice on him, he'd …

Jack cut off that thought before it could form fully.

"Put him on speaker phone!" Jonas said from around the pile of nachos he'd stuffed into his mouth. The boy was a bottomless pit.

Sam glared at Jonas and Jack snickered. He'd been the recipient of that glare a few times tonight – it was about time someone else got the Carter patented 'eyeball of doom'.

"Sorry, Sam," Jonas mumbled, still a little the worse for wear, but a bit more sober now that he'd gotten some food inside of him.

Sam took two more tequila shots while she waited for Hammond to answer. Oh, she was so gonna hurt tomorrow!

Jack couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for her. She'd told him at the beginning of the evening that she and tequila didn't mix. Served her right. Besides, he had his own impending hangover to worry about.

"Uncle Georgie!" Sam finally squealed, causing Jack and Jonas – on either side of her – to wince. The woman had a fine set of lungs.

And Jack was so gonna bust her chops about the 'Uncle Georgie' thing the next day.

"I lo-o-o-ve you," Sam said into the receiver. "Your head's all shiny. I lo-o-o-ve bald men."

Then she pouted. "Okay, Uncle Georgie," she said. "Night-night." She put down the phone, then stared at Jack defiantly. "I did it!" she said.

Then put her tongue out at him again.

"Real mature, Sam," he told her.

And received another raspberry in response.

Oh yeah. She was completely trashed.

* * *

Sam stuck out her bottom lip, ignoring the fact that she was way too old to be pouting. "Why's everyone picking on me tonight?" she whined.

"Inquiring minds," Daniel said in a grave professorial tone that sat ill with the fact that he was drunk out of his mind and had a tanked doctor snuggled up against him, snoring into his neck.

The man squinted myopically at her, having bust his glasses during an ill-advised attempt at swing-dancing with Janet. "So … were you ever a cheerleader?" he persisted.

Sam closed her eyes. The jig was up. "Yes," she admitted. "JV. After that, I got too tall."

"Cool!" Daniel declared.

Now, that was just creepy. When had he and Jack switched personalities?

"So, Samantha …," her CO began in a dangerous silky purr.

"John," she said, sucking down another tequila.

He grimaced at the use of his proper first name. "Still got the moves?"

"Oh, brother," Sam muttered.

"What's a … cheerleader?" Jonas asked. Then pointed at Jack. "And why's he grinning like an idiot?"

Sam looked at her CO and, sure enough, he had a wide lusty smirk on his face. She shoved at his shoulder. "Aren't you a bit old for the cheerleaders, sir?" she asked.

He snickered. "Hey, I never claimed to be mature, Carter," he said.

"Sha-am …," Jonas complained. "What's a cheerleader?"

"Hey, Carter; it might be easier if you just showed him," her CO said. He grinned widely. "Still got the moves?"

Sam closed her eyes, then opened them to eyeball the Colonel menacingly. "Ever been beaten up by a cheerleader?" she growled.

He didn't exactly seem intimidated, she noted with chagrin.

"Sha-am … I wanna see your moves!" Jonas said. Then he gave her the Jonas-patented wagging-tail puppy-dog look. "Please?"

"Fine," Sam sighed and got up off the settee.

* * *

Oh, boy. Did she ever have the moves!

Jack gulped as his beautiful 2IC swiveled her hips and a hot little rounded ass to whatever tune was playing through her head, then switched to a bump and grind that would have done a stripper proud.

Since when were science geeks so sexy? Maybe he shouldn't have cut chem classes so much!

Then he remembered what he'd been doing instead of chem classes – studying an entirely different kind of chemistry with Mandy under the bleachers – and snickered into his beer. Naaaaaaaaah!

Then Sam yanked off her sweater, leaving her torso bare except for a sweeet little hot pink tank top that showed off several inches of soft skin and a cute little belly button.

A cute little belly button that …

"Sham's got her belly button pierced!" Jonas slurred around his beer. Then he slung a friendly arm around Jack's neck, almost strangling him. "She looks hot, doesn't she?"

_Must not kill Jonas, must not kill Jonas, must not kill Jonas._

Jack eyeballed the younger man, who couldn't take his eyes off Sam's gyrating body. "Hot?" Funny how quickly the Kelownan had adapted to American slang, whereas T seemed to still struggle.

"Yeah!" Jonas said. "Hot, sexy, fine, beautiful, sexy." He belched. "Did I mention sexy?"

"Indeed," Teal'c said, a small appreciative smile playing over his lips. "Samantha Carter is a very beautiful woman."

Sam's movements halted suddenly. Then she sauntered over to the three guys sitting on Jack's long settee. "You think I'm hot?" she asked, bending over and taking Jonas's chin in her hand.

Giving the young puppy a great view down that sweet little tank top.

_Must not kill Jonas, must not kill Jonas, must not kill Jonas._

Jonas blushed right up to his hairline and he babbled incoherently in what Jack suspected was his native tongue. Daniel could've probably translated, except that he'd joined Fraiser in her nap, cuddling her like a human sized teddy bear.

"Sir?"

And now that hand was on his chin and he was getting the great view down that sweet little tank top.

"Ah, come off it, Carter!" he snorted. "You know you're hot!"

Shit.

_Brain; meet mouth. Mouth; meet brain. Now try working in tandem!_

"Aww, thank you, sir," Sam said, plopping down into his lap and winding her arms around his neck. "You're hot, too!"

And now she was grinding that cute little rounded ass into him, causing all his blood to boil and rush south. You'd think all the beer he'd consumed would've killed it, but nope! Raring to go. "I am not … hot," he said, attempting to get Cuddly Carter off his lap. But not too assiduously. His body really, really liked having her there.

Cuddly Carter wiggled against him. "Y'are," she said. "Big brown eyes, silver hair stickin' up a-a-a-a-l-l-l-l over and a tight little ass." She giggled, then wiggled again. "Half the women – and some of the guys – on the base think you're the sweetest thing on two legs."

Guys? Euwww; he didn't need to know that! His brain cackled gleefully: 'Over fifty, and you still got it, Jack m'boy!'.

"Yep," came another female voice.

Check out who woke up from her little siesta. "Shit. Not you as well, Doc?" Jack groaned.

"What?" Janet gestured with a wobbly little hand. "I might be a doctor, but I'm still a woman. And you've got a good sexy body. The nurses you don't terrorize think you're a babe."

Had the Doc's Southern accent always been that strong? Or was she flirting with him?

"Yeah." Sam nodded her head vigorously and slung her free arm around Jonas. "I work with the four sexiest men in the world. It's like my very own hot guys calendar."

* * *

**Back in the briefing room:**

George Hammond was getting a headache. He sometimes wondered how this collection of oddballs managed to make up the greatest team he'd ever had the privilege of commanding.

Yet it couldn't be denied that their strong bond, their friendship, their sense of family played a big part in their effectiveness. The dynamics had changed slightly during Daniel Jackson's absence, but Jonas had found his own place amongst the team, and they'd gotten along well.

And now that Doctor Jackson was back on SG-1, and Jonas had returned to Earth – likely permanently – the sense of family was back. And as a close family, they had to go nuts occasionally or they would go nuts.

So George Hammond patiently massaged his brow and gestured for Jack to continue the story. He suspected there was a lot not being said, but he was in a "Don't ask, don't tell" mood.

There were just some things he was better off not knowing.

* * *

**Back to the previous evening:**

Sam sighed as she saw the disbelieving frown on the Colonel's face. How could he not see what she and so many other women saw? He never seemed to realize when a woman was interested in him – they practically had to whack him upside the head with a two by four to let him know!

Sam snickered as she remembered that evening years ago watching the meteors on Edora. Laira had so been interested in the Colonel, but as usual he'd been clueless. From what he'd said after his return several months later, she'd had to grab him and kiss him.

The last time Sam had grabbed him and kissed him, he'd had brown hair and she'd been out of her mind. Or perhaps more sane than in the years that had passed since.

She cuddled into the sexy man, tracing his cheekbones with a finger and lingering on one of the long dimples near his mouth. She yawned and giggled when he echoed the yawn. "I'm sleepy," she told him solemnly.

Then her stomach lurched. "Ohhh …," she moaned. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Christ, Carter; you look like shit," her CO told her, grabbing her in a strong embrace and hauling her up to the bathroom.

The silver-tongued devil.

* * *

**Back in the briefing room:**

Sam watched the Colonel as he gave General Hammond a sanitized version of their previous night's stupidity. She had her own gaps, thanks to the half bottle of tequila she'd consumed, but she vaguely recalled … sitting in his lap.

And his interest had certainly been … ahem … piqued. In spite of the impressive amount of alcohol he'd put away.

Which made her wonder. If he could be that interested when plowed, what would he be like without the booze?

Sam flushed bright red and massaged the back of her neck. Damn; was it hot in here?

"All right; that's enough, Colonel," Hammond said. His eyes squinched tightly shut for a second, and he looked like he was fighting a migraine. He eyeballed SG-1. "Three of you are not military, but you should know better than to show up to work hung over. And as for you, Major and Colonel" – Sam gulped as he eyed her with a steely glare – "this will be noted on your permanent record. Now, gear up for P2K 743. And Jonas; SG-11 needs a linguist today, so you'll go with them."

"Yes, sir," Jonas said quietly, followed by various murmurs of acquiescence.

"Good." Hammond sure was pissed. "Dismissed."

* * *

George Hammond shook his head and chuckled as his favorite oddballs walked out of the briefing room.

They were intelligent.

They were dedicated.

They were brave, honorable and resourceful.

They were completely nuts.

And he really liked them.

God help him.


	5. P2K 743

_There is actually plot in this chapter! Shock, gasp. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

"Carter; you might want to watch out for that mud hole there," the Colonel pointed out – oh so helpfully.

Smart ass.

Of course, she couldn't take him too seriously, considering she remembered his drunken eagerness to try on Janet's eyeliner. And Janet's eagerness to put the stuff on him.

"Thank you, sir. I noticed that," Sam told her CO, perching on a handy rock and using a twig to scrape some of the mud off of her boots. "Where was that warning two minutes ago?"

A tiny smirk appeared on the Colonel's face. "Where was your Vaseline before the briefing?"

"Touché," Sam said. As Jack O'Neill paybacks went, this was very mild. "I'm surprised you didn't have me in that mud hole." She indicated the very large hole they'd carefully bypassed.

"And mess up your pretty face?" The Colonel pursed his lips as if in deep contemplation, then shook his head. "Nah." Then he wandered off to help Teal'c set up camp.

Leaving Sam Carter speechless.

"Sam; what're you doing?"

"Cleaning mud off my boots, Daniel," Sam said, grabbing a wet wipe to remove some of the mud that had splashed onto her arms.

"No; you and Jack … The flirting's getting pretty bad." The linguist looked worried. "I think even General Hammond's noticed." He shook his head. "Don't get me wrong; it's nice to see you two getting back to the way things used to be, but …"

"But …?"

"You need to cool your jets. At least while you're on duty." Daniel huffed. "I can't believe I'm having to be the voice of caution here, but the SGC has a lot of enemies. You and Jack would be shark-feed, and your reputation would be blown."

_And SG-1's with it_, Sam mused, wondering just when Daniel had lost his charming air of naivete. "Okay, Daniel; I get it," she said, mourning the loss of his innocence. "We'll be more careful."

"All right, then." The man she alternately thought of as 'little brother', 'big brother' and 'pain in the ass' gave her a hug. "I am happy for you, though."

"Daniel; we're not doing anything," Sam said, cursing her fair skin as a deep blush rose over her cheeks.

"I know." Daniel shrugged his shoulders. "But … whatever's going on between you two is making Jack a lot happier. And a happy Jack is a lot less of a pain in the ass than usual."

Sam shook her head, scratching gently at her stomach. She knew Daniel and Jack cared deeply for each other – had a very strong bond. It just manifested itself in playful – usually – antagonism. Like brothers.

* * *

**That night:**

Sam groaned and flopped over onto her stomach, working her hand up inside her tee shirt to claw at her skin.

_Just … a little … higher!_

"Ack!" she grumbled, giving up. Fit and athletic she might be, but the human body just didn't bend that way.

"Carter! What the hell are you doing?"

Her CO sat up from his sleeping bag several feet away and she pulled her tee shirt down quickly before he saw something he really shouldn't. "Sorry, sir," she said, resisting the urge to grab his bowie knife and peel off all her skin. "It's nothing."

He scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair, leaving it sticking up even more than usual. "Don't give me that, Carter," he said. "I've seen you take a staff blast with less complaints."

_Oh, says the guy who does the same but whines and gripes like a five year old at a little penlight!_ She could have said it but didn't – she wasn't about to be busted back to Captain. "It's just … an itch."

"Care for me to scratch it?" he asked.

"Sir?" she squeaked. Surely he couldn't have meant that the way it came out? Yes; he was a good-looking, sexy man. Yes; she was highly attracted to him. Yes; they were CO and 2IC, doing the most important worthwhile jobs either could ever have imagined.

He visibly cringed. "Wow; that didn't come out right," he said. "You just … it seems to be in a place you can't reach, and I can't have you tossing and turning all night." He sent her a winning smile, then a cheeky one. "Permission to stick my hands up your shirt, Major?"

Maybe it was the lateness of the hour. Maybe it was a reflection of how good their friendship had been lately. Maybe it was something else. But whatever it was, Sam couldn't help but laugh. "Permission granted, sir," she said, presenting her back to him.

Two long-fingered hands slid up the shirt, sending goose-bumps in their wake. The man had uncommonly nice hands.

"Just … a little higher, sir," she grunted, glad the dark night hid the flush of … arousal? … forming on her cheeks.

"There?" he asked, scritching gently.

"Oh … bliss," Sam moaned as the annoying itching sensation subsided. Ever since she'd fallen into that horrible peaty bog, she'd felt itchy. This was the one thing she hated about going off-world – no adequate wash facilities. And wet wipes just didn't cut it. She buried her face in her folded arms and groaned as those skilled fingers took care of another itchy area. "God … don't stop," she pleaded.

A snicker came from the man sending her to heaven. "God … can you imagine what people would think if they heard you right now?" he commented.

Sam just shrugged her shoulders. "Chance would be a fine thing," she mumbled sleepily. Christ; it had been … Good God; over six years! With a guy she'd met shortly before being posted to the SGC. Hell, she was practically a born-again virgin!

"Carter?" her CO queried.

"Ah … nothing, sir," Sam said, suddenly remembering where she was and just who she was talking to. She wriggled away from those warm hands, feeling extremely embarrassed. "Thanks for the scratch, sir – I'll be okay now."

"Okay." The Colonel gave a quick cough – that hairball-in-the-throat hack he gave when he was embarrassed – and patted her back. "Go back to sleep, Carter."

"Yes, sir," Sam replied. "G'night, Colonel."

"Night, Carter."

**

* * *

**

**The next day:**

Yellow was in his eyes, and something warm and soft was wrapped around him. Jack struggled to awareness in a way he usually didn't when off world, then realized.

The yellow was Carter's hair and the warm and soft wrapped around him was Carter's body. He shifted gently, not wanting to wake her up, but she mumbled something incoherent and tightened her arms around him, rubbing up against his …

Now, Jack O'Neill had a lot of self-control. He wasn't always horny and had slept quite easily with the women he'd been involved with without becoming aroused. Yes; a guy could sleep in the same bed as a woman without getting a boner! But when it came to a hot sexy blonde rubbing her pelvis against his, even Jack had a breaking point.

He took a deep breath and tried to ease himself away from the unusually cuddly Carter. Cuddly Carter grunted something incoherent and tightened her arms around him, snuggling into his neck, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin covering his Adam's Apple.

Jack groaned quietly – his neck had always been one of his sweet spots – and he was sorely tempted to wake Cuddly Carter up and show her exactly what she was doing to him.

But common sense – and his morality – stopped him. If he and Cuddly Carter ever got together, she would damn well be cognizant!

Cuddly Carter snorted – _Real ladylike, Sam!_ – then unraveled from him, rolled over and went back to sleep.

Jack exhaled loudly in relief, then decided he might as well relieve Daniel, seeing as he was already … ahem … up. Slipping on his jacket, he stepped out of the tent and headed over to where Daniel was sitting, sipping at his omnipresent cup of coffee. "Morning," he said.

"Oh." Daniel blinked up at him. "Morning." He lifted up the canteen. "Coffee?"

"Please," Jack said, sitting down on a handy log and stretching out his long legs.

"So … sleep well?"

That was a definite note of mischief in the younger man's voice. Jack did his best to try for innocence. "Fine, Daniel – you?"

"Oh, pretty well. Of course, I didn't have a blonde security blanket, but I guess a guy can't have everything."

Jack was dismayed when he felt his cheeks turn red. "Daniel …," he growled.

"Relax, Jack; I'm just yanking your chain," the linguist/archeologist/soldier/pain in the ass told him. "But you have to admit; you and Sam have been pretty flirty the last few weeks."

"Yes, well …". Jack coughed and sucked down his coffee. "Anyway, let's wake the kids up."

The flirting between them was getting pretty out of control. Jack knew it, and he knew Sam knew it. But it was such a small thing, and reminded Jack of the early days. Before the Zatarc tests.

Kanan wasn't the only reason Jack disliked the Tok'ra. Although the snake was the biggest reason.

He actually hated Kanan more than Ba'al. Ba'al at least had made no pretense to be anything other than what he was – for Ba'al, it was just another day at the office. But Kanan … That damn Tok'ra snake had hung Jack out to dry.

Jack shook his head, and pushed the dark memories back into their tiny cage at the back of his mind. Then went to wake up the two remaining 'kids'.

* * *

**Later that same day:**

Jack and Teal'c were walking slightly behind Daniel and Carter as they bounced along, doing their eager scientist-geek thing. He held up his hand when he saw a movement in the bushes. He nudged Teal'c. "We've got a shadow," he said in low tones.

"Indeed," Teal'c said, not even looking at the bushes. "They are not very proficient trackers."

"Okay; whoever you are, come out with your hands up," Jack said, aiming his P90 at the bushes.

The bushes rustled, then their tracker appeared. And it was quite possibly the cutest little girl Jack had ever seen. Couldn't be any more than about three, with disheveled red curls and big brown eyes.

Eyes that widened as she saw the two tall men. Then filled with tears as she fixed on Teal'c's forehead.

"Ah … no, kid!" Jack said quickly. "We're not Goa'ulds. Honest!"

The tiny little pointed chin quivered and the girl covered her eyes with her hands.

Jack smiled involuntarily – he remembered when Charlie had been that young and had thought people wouldn't see him if he did that. "We can still see you, baby," he pointed out.

Daniel and Carter appeared next to him. "That's a child, sir!" Carter pointed out.

"That's it, Carter; I'm taking away your genius license," Jack grumbled, hunkering down to be at the little girl's level. A good thing Bocce had fixed up his crappy knees in his little palace of delights.

Even with his back to her, he could feel the 'Bite me' stare Carter leveled at him.

He was so damn proud.

"Hey, kid; where are your parents?" he asked.

"Uhm, Jack … I don't think she understands English," Daniel said, smirking. "Let me try."

Damn know it all linguist. "Have at it, Rock Boy," Jack said, returning the smirk to the power 10. No-one could out-smirk Jack O'Neill, although he had a feeling that if Carter wasn't his 2IC, she just might be able to do it. She was becoming more and more of a smart ass as she grew in confidence.

The linguist scowled at him, then joined him, kneeling on the ground. "Bonjour," he tried.

Nothing.

"Buenas dias."

Zip.

"Guten Morgen."

Squat.

"Oh, give it up, Daniel!" Jack said. _Nerts to you, Rock Boy._ "Even if she understands us, she's probably terrified." He got up and looked around. "Well … we have a kid. That would indicate there's a village or a city or something round here."

"You are correct."

A man and woman stepped out of the clearing, the woman holding out her arms. "Maire!" she said.

The little girl shrieked and flew into the woman's embrace. "Mama!" she said, wrapping her tiny arms around the woman's neck. She pointed at SG-1. "Jaffa!"

"Ah, Christ … here we go," Jack said, rolling his eyes. "Yes; he's a Jaffa. No; he doesn't serve any snake. He's a good guy. We're not Goa'uld. Okay?"

The woman laughed. "You're very ill-tempered, stranger," she said. "You remind me of my father."

Oh, great; he looked that old, did he? And he wasn't ill-tempered – he was … Okay; so he was a bit impatient. He'd always considered it part of his charm. "How nice for you," he said. "We came here exploring, so we'll be on our way."

"Sir; the UAV should have picked up human life signs," Carter said.

"Worthless," Jack grunted. "Well, we'll be going, so we'll see you lovely folks around the block. But … keep a better eye on cutie, will ya?" he added, unable to help smiling at the tiny redhead who was now watching them with impossibly huge eyes. "She's a little too small and adorable to be left to wander around alone."

The man looked at the woman. "He is short-tempered, yet he cares for the helpless."

"Indeed," the woman returned. "Perhaps this one can be trusted. But what of the others?"

"A-ah! We're here, ya know!" Jack objected. "Don't talk about us like we're not here."

"Jack …," Daniel interrupted.

"You want to know about us; ask us!" Jack said. "We'll tell you … some stuff. And, besides the big guy, we're all human. From Earth if you really wanna know."

"Jack …"

"Daniel?" Jack eyed the younger man with his best menacing stare but after seven years – or six if you didn't count the year he was all 'glowy' – Daniel was immune.

"Could you try to be a little nicer?" Daniel said. "We're on their world, barging around without invitation. You really want to take America's history of manifest destiny out to the stars?"

The guy had a point – if a little snarkily made. But Jack was just no good at the diplomacy thing. He was far better at the point and shoot. "Yeah; okay," he said grumpily.

A tiny giggle came from behind him. _Thanks, Carter_, he mused, then gave a reluctant grin when the little girl … Maire … echoed the giggle.

"He's funny, Mama," she said. "What's your name?"

"Jack O'Neill," Jack said. "And that's Daniel Jackson, Sam Carter and the big guy is Teal'c."

"I am Roisin and this is my husband, Lars. And what do you want with this world, Jack O'Neill?" the woman said in her soft voice.

"We're peaceful explorers," Daniel said.

"With very large weapons," the man – Lars – pointed out. "How do we know you aren't here to rape our planet of its elements?"

"Uh …". Daniel was stymied there.

Jack could get to like this guy – no bullshit. "You don't," he said. "Unless you happen to be psychic. And we don't know that you aren't in league with the snake-heads and planning to sell us out for some big honkin' bounty."

And now the man laughed. "I begin to like you, Jack O'Neill," he said. "On the basis of mutual mistrust, we could perhaps … Is there something wrong with you, young woman?" he broke off, turning to stare at Carter.

Who had her hands back up inside her tee shirt, clawing madly at her skin. She dropped them and went red when she saw the group stare. "Oh! I … uh … fell into some mud yesterday – I'm just a bit itchy."

"Yes; you will be," the woman said. "The mud is an irritant in its liquid state, but hardens to become one of the strongest materials known to our scientists. We use it for building our homes."

She went over to Carter and peeled up the bottom of her tee shirt, treating Jack to an intriguing inch of soft pale Sam skin.

Jack blinked. Why did he feel like he'd seen that soft Sam skin very recently?

_Focus, O'Neill!_

Her soft pale Sam skin was now covered in livid scratch marks and mottled sores. Jack whistled. "Ouch," he muttered.

"No kidding," Carter said irritably. "I'll be fine when we get back to the SGC and I can take a proper shower."

_Carter. Shower. Naked. Wet. Soapy._

Jack blinked again and forced his mind out of the gutter. "I presume we're free to leave?" he said more than a little snippily. What the hell was wrong with him lately? It was like he had all the self control of a teenager.

Oh … crap. Again?

He looked quickly down at his hand, and saw the signs of age – calluses, fine lines. He blew out a relieved breath. _Thank God. No mini-me._

"Of course," Roisin said. She dug in the large purse-like thing she carried – Jack wondered irrelevantly if women carrying bottomless purses was one of the universal constants – then produced a small vial containing some purple liquid. "We use this to remove the itching and to destroy the microbes contained within the mud. It may not work on your physiology, but it is worth trying."

By now, Carter's hands were back inside her tee shirt, clawing desperately at the skin. Hard enough that she'd broken several of the sores, causing them to bleed. "Carter!" Jack barked. "Stop that damn scratching!"

_Yeah, right_, he scolded himself. _That's like saying don't look at the giant pink elephant in the corner._

The look Carter shot him told him she agreed with him as she did not stop in her ministrations. "Sorry … sir," she grunted, her face turning red with her wild movements. "Ah … sir?" she added.

"Yes, Carter?" He wasn't grinding his teeth, he wasn't.

"I … uh … don't feel so good," she told him, and crumpled suddenly.


	6. Realizations

_Thanks to everyone for the great reviews. I hope I've replied to all the signed ones at least. For those I might have missed (slap my wrists) and to the unsigned reviewers, a big honkin' thank you!_

* * *

"Carter?" With a swift easy movement, Jack caught at his sinking 2IC before she could hit the unforgiving ground and scooped up her form. She was surprisingly light for such a tall and strong woman. 

She blinked slowly up at him. "Jack?"

_Jack?_ He wondered irrelevantly if she always thought of him as 'Jack' when she was ill. Then he felt her forehead automatically and frowned when she turned her face into the warmth of his hand, shivering slightly. "Christ, Carter; you're half frozen," he noted disapprovingly. "Daniel, T; we're outta here," he announced, settling the barely-conscious Major more comfortably in his arms.

She sighed and turned her head, burying it in his neck, then he felt her eyelids flutter closed.

"Here, Jack O'Neill." Roisin dug in that capacious purse and produced a hunk of rock. "This is the mud in its non-viscous state – perhaps your medical people can use this to perfect a cure for her sickness."

"Ah …" – Jack looked around quickly, and Teal'c took the sample from Roisin, storing it in his backpack. "Thanks, T. Thanks, Roisin. Sorry to …".

"We understand, O'Neill," Lars said – never did get a last name for the couple, Jack noted. "Perhaps we may see each other again one day."

"Yeah. Maybe," Jack said. He nodded to the two adults then gave a quick smile to the adorable infant who had been watching the proceedings with wide eyes. "Bye, kiddo," he added.

Much to his surprise, she blew him a kiss, then giggled. "Bye-bye," she said, ducking her head into her mother's neck in an almost identical move to Sam's.

As the strangers walked away, Roisin stared thoughtfully at her husband. "The gray-headed one, Jack, is of the Ancients – why does he simply not heal his mate?"

"I sensed his power was diluted, my love," Lars said. "He may not even be aware of his origins." He smiled down at her. "You were not until I met you," he pointed out. "And I don't believe they are mated as we are – although the connection between them is powerful."

"They are not mated?" Roisin frowned. "But … that seems so wrong. They are very much in love."

"Yes," Lars agreed. "Something, however, constrains them." He smiled down at his beautiful wife of five summers. "A love like ours and theirs is rare – we can only hope that they will find each other one day."

Roisin shifted Maire more comfortably onto her hip, then leaned into her husband, kissing him softly on the lips and making their daughter giggle. "I love you, my husband," she said. "Let us go home."

* * *

**Stargate Command:**

"Off-world activation!"

General George S. Hammond jogged from his office into the control room with a speed that belied his stout frame. "Any teams due to report back?" he asked.

"No, sir." Sergeant Walter Harriman shook his head. "SG teams 4 and 7 are due to report in two hours, whilst SG-1 will make their first call in six hours."

"Receiving IDC," another tech confirmed. "General; it's SG-1's code."

Hammond got that sinking feeling he always got when a team – and SG-1 in particular – chose to report back early. "Open it," he told Harriman.

Harriman pressed his palm to the scanner, and the iris retracted. The wormhole whooshed out, then settled back, glinting invitingly.

And they waited.

Then Jack O'Neill stepped through the event horizon onto the ramp, with a limp bundle in his arms. A limp bundle that looked suspiciously like Major Carter.

"Medical team to the embarkation room!" Hammond barked into the intercom, then sped down to the embarkation room.

Generals weren't supposed to play favorites, but he had a special soft spot in his heart for the oddballs that made up his premier team. A civilian linguist, a rebel alien, a gun-toting astrophysicist and a former Special Forces Colonel who, General West had warned, came with two basic mood settings – surly and surlier.

West was a good soldier, but he could be blinkered – there was so much more to Jack O'Neill than his admittedly volatile and eccentric exterior.

Hammond shook his head and approached said Special Forces Colonel. "What happened, Colonel?" he asked the younger man.

O'Neill sat down at the edge of the ramp and hugged his unconscious 2IC closer to him. "She's … ah … freezing, sir," he said. He looked up and George caught a glimpse of anguish in the brown depths of his eyes before the shutters slammed down over them. "She fell into some mud that's got some microbe things in, and she's got an infection."

The door to the embarkation room opened, and Janet Fraiser and two of her orderlies sped in, pushing a gurney. "Put her on here, please, Colonel," she said.

"T," Jack barked suddenly, getting up and placing the Major gently on the gurney. "That mud sample."

Teal'c handed the sample over to one of the orderlies. "This is a hardened version of the mud with which Major Carter came into contact," the big Jaffa said in his usual placid tones. But his anxiety was betrayed by the faint frown, and the rapid jerking of the muscle along his jaw line.

Hammond watched as the diminutive doctor disappeared with the gurney, knowing that he would have to wait for an explanation. "Report to the Infirmary, SG-1 – we'll debrief later," he said.

"Yes, sir," Jack said, his eyes snapping back in Hammond's direction. He handed his P90 to one of the SFs, then hurried out of the embarkation room, followed closely by Daniel and Teal'c.

Hammond closed his eyes briefly as he thought about the agonized look on his 2IC's face. He'd known for a while that Samantha Carter and Jack O'Neill cared for each other – had feelings that fell outside those proscribed by the UCMJ …

But just when the hell had Jack fallen in love with her?

* * *

Cold. 

She was so cold.

And everything hurt.

Then she felt the presence.

That presence that had warmed her earlier.

The presence was speaking to her, but she couldn't understand.

Then she felt it touch her.

And all was well again. She sighed and allowed herself to fall asleep, basking in the warmth of the presence.

* * *

Jack put a hand to his 2IC's forehead, frowning as she nuzzled up against the small source of warmth. God, she was so cold! That just wasn't normal for an infection. 

Shit.

What if it wasn't a bacterial infection?

What if it was radiation?

In one of his more dubious endeavors during his Black Ops days, Jack had been required to learn about bacteriological and radiation warfare. And he'd learned well. More than he'd ever wanted to know.

In fact, he could probably teach a med school class on the topic.

"Ah … Doc?" he said. _No; don't say it. She'll have run tests for it!_ But he couldn't even obey his own orders. "Have you checked for … ah … radiation poisoning?"

_Be wrong, be wrong, be wrong_, he begged of himself.

"We have, Colonel," the tiny Doctor told him gently but firmly. "The sample was dissolved and gave off no radiation."

"That we know of," Jack muttered pessimistically. Then his brain seemed to decide that it was sick of being hidden for so long. "What about the naqadah in her blood? Could one of the elements in the mud have bonded with the naqadah?"

_Be wrong, be wrong, be wrong._ And the litany continued.

Janet looked up at him thoughtfully, chewing on her bottom lip. "We'll investigate it, Colonel," she said. She patted his arm. "And, at some point, we'll discuss how much you really understand about my work."

Damn.

Crap.

His cover was so blown.

Then he gave a small smile.

If it brought Carter back to health, it was so worth it.

* * *

And she was cold again. 

She mewled in discontent, her body instinctively seeking out the presence.

And the presence was with her once more, surrounding her with warmth, caring and a familiar comfort.

The presence spoke to her but, as before, she didn't understand. But she was happy that it was there. She could rest with the presence.

* * *

Janet Fraiser watched as Colonel O'Neill sat next to Sam's bed, his head propped on a hand, dozing uncomfortably. He was going to have one hell of a bad back when he awoke, but she knew that nothing short of a Presidential order would get him out of there. 

Stubborn son of a bitch.

She rubbed her hands across her eyes, trying to massage away the tiredness. It was so hard for her to watch a friend in pain and know that there was nothing she could do to help. Her team were still running tests on the soil sample, cross-checking it against a small sample of naqadah obtained from Sam's latest blood draw. Until those results came in, all Janet could do was alleviate Sam's discomfort.

She went over to the bed where Sam lay so still, so silent, the shudders racking her slim frame the only indication that she was still alive. Janet looked at her temperature and noted it had slipped again. _Damn it._

Sam was in danger of developing hypothermia if her temp slipped any lower. All the treatments Janet had available were not warming her up, and the only peace Sam had seemed to experience was during the brief contacts with the Colonel.

Janet shook her head as a thought occurred to her. It was crazy, it was unprofessional, it could open up a can of worms that no-one was ready for. But it just might work. And if it made Sam more comfortable …

She put a hand gently to the Colonel's shoulder and shook it lightly, then skipped quickly out of the way. She knew he slept on a hair trigger most of the time and had experienced his razor-sharp reflexes once too often. "Colonel?" she said softly.

He sat up with a small groan for his back. He was strong and healthy, had the fitness levels of someone fifteen years younger – but sleeping in a hard plastic chair would hurt anyone. "Doc?" he mumbled.

"She's losing warmth again, sir," Janet said. "In fact, the only time her temperature spiked was when she came into physical contact with you."

"Doc … That's crazy," the Colonel said, seeming to make the connection instantly. And, once again, Janet wondered at how much of his intelligence the Colonel kept hidden.

When he wasn't wreaking havoc in her Infirmary, Janet liked and respected the man. Who he was, what he'd done for the country, the world, the galaxy.

But right now? With his hair at all angles and his brown eyes sleepy and vulnerable … Frankly, he was adorable.

"Perhaps," she admitted, pushing the unprofessional thought aside, "but it's true. Indulge me, sir. Take her hand."

Eyeing her warily – like she was about to flash her penlight in his eyes – he took Sam's hand in his large one.

And Sam sighed and snuggled into her pillow, her breathing coming a little easier.

And the Colonel and the Doctor watched on the monitor as Sam's temperature elevated.

"Holy … crap," the Colonel muttered, squeezing Sam's hand.

* * *

And she was warm again. 

But more so than previously. Now the presence touched her, soothed her, wrapped around her. He …? – yes, he … warmed her. He was warm, caring, loving and nurturing.

But not a father.

She was confused. He was a father. Or had been. But he was not her father.

For some reason, that distinction was important to her.

The presence – the man – spoke again.

And this time she could understand him.

"Holy … crap."

She felt a squeezing motion, and returned it.

And the presence spoke to her again, cajoling her to join him. But she was so tired …

* * *

Jack's battered old heart lurched when he felt a small squeeze of his fingers. "Sam?" he said. "Wake up, will ya?" 

"Too tired," his 2IC whispered – and he could detect the grumpiness in her tone. That tone that indicated that he was about five seconds away from a naqadah bomb up the ass.

"She's back," he said to the Doc, a small smirk pulling at his lips at the familiar Carter's-just-woken-up grouchies. She never really kicked into gear till after her second cup of coffee.

"Warm," Sam whispered, clutching more desperately to his hand as he made to pull away. "Warm."

"We can't let her get distressed, Colonel," Janet said. "I'll work around you."

"Okay." He stroked Sam's soft cheek with his other hand. "I'm not goin' anywhere, okay, Carter?"

She turned her face and pressed a sweet kiss into the palm of his hand. "Warm," she murmured once more, then took a deep breath and relaxed.

Leaving Jack O'Neill with a tingling palm and a stunned guppy expression on his face.

Crap. Just when the hell had he fallen in love with her?

Talk about deep shit.

* * *

**Several days later:**

Sam opened her eyes and looked around blankly. Then she realized where she was. The Infirmary.

She felt something warm on her and looked down. It was the Colonel's large hand clutching tightly to hers. His untidy silver head rested on the bed near her abdomen and she winced in sympathy – that had to be murder on his neck.

She moved her free hand and stroked some of the silver hair – it was surprisingly soft and slithered through her fingers like the finest silk.

A groan came from the man and he lifted his head, blinking sleepily at her. "You're awake," he told her.

"I noticed," she said, then coughed, surprised at how dry her throat was.

Her CO let go of her hand – and she felt an immediate sense of loss – and sat up, dislodging her fingers from his hair. She blushed when he raised his eyebrows, and was thankful when he didn't call her on it.

"Thirsty?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," she said briefly.

"Doc! She's awake!" the Colonel said.

Janet came tip-tapping over to the bed, smiling warmly at Sam. "Good to have you back, Sam," she said, giving Jack a cup full of ice chips.

"Did I go somewhere?" Sam asked, resigning herself to letting the Colonel feed her. She could barely lift her head. She sucked eagerly at the ice chips, enjoying the moisture that lubricated her sore throat.

"You've been unconscious for three days, Carter," her CO said, digging the spoon in the cup and giving her more ice chips. "Seems that mud did some weird reaction thing with your blood and sent you off to la-la land." He waved his hand at the doctor. "Napoleon here has been working round the clock trying to figure it out." He beamed innocently at Janet.

Janet scowled at the Colonel and Sam giggled. "We tried a number of different remedies, but it was actually the Colonel who suggested that something in the mud could have bonded with the naqadah in your system."

Sam blinked. The Colonel? Yes, he was highly intelligent, but she'd never thought of him as a scientist. Then she caught that cute little 'busted' look he did. "Sir?" she said around a yawn.

"Need to know, Carter," Jack said and patted her hand. He mock-glared at Janet. "You know; you've just blown my dumb-ass reputation right out of the water."

"No-one bought the act anyway, Colonel," Sam said around another yawn.

"Ah." The Colonel looked startled. "Kay," he added agreeably. "Well, Sleeping Beauty; seems like you need another siesta." He got up, with a groan for his back and neck, and stretched.

Which gave Sam a highly enjoyable view of a flat tanned stomach as his tee shirt rode upward. Jack O'Neill was so sexy, and it was all unconscious. He looked great, moved great and smelled great.

"Okay," Sam said, dragging her mind out of the sewer. "I am a bit sleepy," she admitted.

"Then sleep, Sam," Janet said. "We'll talk later, okay, honey?"

"All right." Janet went off to her office, leaving Sam staring up at her CO. "Sir … you need rest too," she said. If she knew him, he'd probably spent much of the last three days in that hard chair.

"Yeah," Jack said, stretching again. He bent his long frame and brushed some hair out of Sam's eyes. "Sleep well," he said. "We want you back on SG-1, kicking ass."

Sam snickered. "Yes, sir," she said, and watched as he strolled out of the Infirmary, hands shoved in his pockets.

She was surprised at the immediate sharp sense of loss she felt. Like she'd lost a piece of herself.

Crap. Just when the hell had she fallen in love with him?


	7. D'oh!

_Thanks for all the great reviews! You people are the best!_

* * *

**Several days later:**

Sam sat up carefully, appreciating Teal'c's strong arm around her waist as he and Daniel helped her settle into a wheelchair. She'd woken up fully six days ago from a very odd radiation sickness to find the Colonel's untidy silver head lying next to her abdomen and her hand held tightly in his large warm one.

During the first few days of her recovery, he'd made a number of visits that she'd enjoyed very much – he was witty and good company when he wanted to be – but then he had claimed the pressures of paperwork. And he'd effectively disappeared into thin air the last couple of days.

She snorted slightly. Paperwork. Right.

She knew the man worked hard. He spent a lot of time on the base – almost as much as she did – and his work always got done. Yet he'd perfected the art of seeming like he did nothing – always appearing to have plenty of time for his favorite game of 'bug the astrophysicist', followed closely by his second favorite: 'bug the archeologist'.

He was acting oddly, even by his own eccentric standards. But Sam was too tired to deal with her CO's peculiarities. She just wanted to go home and sleep in a real bed. Without beeping equipment and penlights.

"Major." Jonas Quinn walked in. "How are you today?"

"Good, thanks," Sam told the young Kelownan. "How was the mission?"

"Quiet – no Goa'uld activity," Jonas said. He'd been posted temporarily to SG-2 while Lieutenant Carlson was out with the flu, and seemed to be settling in well with Colonel Ferretti. He was less … ebullient than he'd been when he'd served with SG-1, still suffering from his people's open rejection of him, but was becoming reacquainted with his former comrades.

"That's good. Colonel Ferretti's pleased with you, from what I hear," Sam said, smiling at the young man as Daniel began pushing her wheelchair out of the Infirmary, holding an animated conversation with Teal'c.

Jonas went a light pink. "I'm glad," he said simply. "I like working with SG-2, and I'm starting to get used to the Colonel's sense of humor."

"Ah, just remember, Jonas; the man's full of shit," Colonel O'Neill said lightly, strolling out of the elevator. "Keep that in mind, and you'll do fine." He gave Sam a cheeky grin. "I see they've finally busted you outta there!" he pointed out.

"Hail, Prince of the obvious," Sam said, returning the cheeky grin. There was just something about the man – no matter how blue she felt, he could always cheer her up with one of his asinine quips.

"Smart ass," the Colonel said, nudging her gently and winking. "That's my job."

Sam laughed again – she'd missed his snarky comments the last couple of days. "Of course," she said. "Sorry, sir – wouldn't want to step on your turf."

"Better," he said. "So … where to, milady?"

"Home," Sam said, leaning her head back and seeing a brown hand near her right shoulder as the Colonel walked along beside her. If she just … tilted her head … ever so slightly … she could press a kiss to that warm hand.

Not that she would. No matter how great the temptation.

And she tried to ignore the little voice inside of her making chicken noises.

Her CO slapped Daniel on the back, causing the linguist to flinch then glare at him. "You heard the lady, Daniel!"

"Jack, you are such an ass," Daniel complained.

"Why, thank you, Daniel," Jack said sarcastically, then smirked at Carter. "He likes me really," he confided.

"Really, sir," she said skeptically.

"Oh yeah," Jack replied confidently. "My charm and effervescence could light up the whole of Vegas."

"You are so full of shit," Sam muttered, but couldn't stop herself from grinning. God … he was off the charts adorable!

Jack snickered. "Ah, it's the Irish in me," he said in a horrible attempt at an Irish brogue. "I kissed the Blarney Stone when I was just a lad."

"Yeah." Sam winced. "Name and distant ancestry aside, you're about as Irish as Thor."

* * *

Jack O'Neill was not a stupid man – despite the act he now knew no-one bought – but sometimes he could be a complete ass.

After the realization of his feelings for Sam and some pointed comments by Daniel of all people, he'd avoided her for several days with the lame excuse of paperwork. But he'd missed her. Missed the quiet conversations over the latest commissary delight, missed the comfortable silences they could fall into, missed the flirtatious repartee.

Okay. He was a sap. He could live with that.

He knew nothing could ever happen between them while they were still in the same chain of command. And by the time they weren't, he'd be too old and addled – if he wasn't already – to appeal to a bright beautiful woman like Sam.

So … he'd decided that he would just enjoy her friendship.

And that had led to him coming along for her liberation from the Infirmary.

She looked much better than she had a couple days previous. Her eyes were bright, a faint flush brightened her creamy skin and her full lips curved as she laughed at something Jonas said.

God … she really was beautiful. Why the hell was she alone? Maybe he could start scouting around for her.

He dismissed that thought as quickly as it had occurred. Not a good idea. They'd become good friends lately, and he didn't want to end up on her shit list.

"Ow … crap!" he griped as the wheelchair clipped him in the ankle. "God, Daniel; you can't steer worth shit," he added, shoving his friend unceremoniously away and taking the wheelchair himself. "Huh; I wonder how fast these babies can go?" he mused, picking up speed.

"Don't even think about it," Sam ordered. "Sir." Then gave him a wide Sam Carter smile – the one that he liked to think told him he was adorable rather than an immature idiot.

"Too late," he told the woman, then shot off along the corridor, pushing a giggling Sam Carter toward the elevators. "Make a hole!" he shouted to a bunch of startled SFs.

They looked at him like he'd finally lost it as they scattered, but Jack didn't care. So what if he was immature? Jack O'Neill had seen things, done things, experienced things that no-one should have to. He could so easily have become a user, a taker. It was only by indulging in moments of stupidity that he could keep the darkness from swallowing him whole.

So if he wanted to push an astrophysicist around in a wheelchair at near light speed, he wasn't going to stop himself!

"Colonel O'Neill!"

But that would stop him.

"General," he said quickly. "Sorry, sir; won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," the General said gruffly, over Sam's giggles.

Jack forced himself to move at a more sedate pace away from the irked General. And could have sworn he heard the older man chuckle.

Nahhhhhhhhhh.

* * *

Daniel shook his head at the older man's antics. God … he could be so immature, so child-like. This happy, cheerful Jack was a far cry from the bitter sarcastic man Daniel had met eight years ago. Back then, he'd been near suicidal due to his son's death, but Skaara's and Daniel's friendship had helped pull him back from the brink.

But Daniel knew that it was the tight relationship of SG-1 that had really brought the Colonel back to the land of the living. And especially the close friendship – the love – he shared with one Major Samantha Carter.

Jonas nudged him. "When did they start being so flirtatious?" he asked.

Daniel shrugged. "A few weeks before you came back to Earth," he said. He figured something must have happened to Sam while she was on the Prometheus. She'd … changed. Had become a lot more outgoing and much more of a smart ass.

"It's a shame they can't be together," Jonas said earnestly, unwittingly echoing Daniel's own sentiments on the matter. "Couldn't an … exception be made for them? I mean; they've saved this world and dozens of others so many times!"

Daniel felt a headache coming on. "Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that," he said. "To gain an exemption from the fraternization rules would mean some very pointed questions being asked about what we do under this mountain."

"Ah." Jonas grimaced. "I sometimes forget the Stargate's still a secret here." He frowned. "What about Sam becoming a civilian?"

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Jonas; you've been watching too much television," he said. "Even as a civilian on SG-1, she'd still be under Jack's direct command. The frat regs apply to civilians too, in those cases."

And since when had he learned so much about the military's code of conduct?

"Too bad." Jonas frowned again. "So, the only way is for one of them to leave the SGC …".

At which point, whoever left would no longer have clearance to know what the other did for a living, and the strain of keeping such huge secrets would permanently mar if not destroy any relationship. Daniel had seen many relationships crumble because of the secrecy surrounding the SGC. In fact, he'd broken up with his last girlfriend because of it.

Daniel shook his head and focused. "Right. Which they're not willing to do. They know they're still needed here." He sighed. He could admire that kind of dedication, but they could have had something so special. Sometimes he thought they should literally screw the regs, but he knew that they were too honorable to do something like that – no matter how strong the attraction.

"Daniel Jackson, Jonas Quinn," Teal'c interrupted. "We should not be discussing matters like this in public." He indicated a passing Marine. "Shall we adjourn this discussion to my quarters?"

Right. "Good idea," Daniel said a little sheepishly.

* * *

**An hour later:**

Sam wobbled as Jack helped her out of his big truck and he caught her round the waist, letting her rest against him for a brief, but pleasurable, moment. "You okay there, Sam?" he inquired.

Sam drew in a deep breath, willing the spots to go away, then nodded her head. "Yeah; just went dizzy for a second," she said.

_Ohhhh, his hands feel so good on my waist!_

Sam shifted uncomfortably and Jack dropped his hands as if they'd burned her. "Your palace, milady," he said, bowing in a vaguely medieval fashion.

Sam laughed, the sudden tension dispelled. "Thank you, good sir," she said. "I'm not quite up to a curtsy, but how about a cup of coffee?"

"Now that," her CO said, unlocking her front door and ushering her in, "I won't say no to." He held up his hand. "But I'll make my coffee. And you … you're having decaf."

"Sir …," Sam protested.

"A-ah! Doctor's orders, Carter!" the man said.

"Oh, and you're such a stickler for following Janet's rules, aren't you?" Sam laughed, but allowed the man to steer her to her settee and settle her there.

"Of course." Jack put a hand to his heart and fluttered his unfairly long eyelashes at her. "Innocence personified, that's me."

Sam let out a distinctly unladylike snort at that outrageous declaration, and thanked whatever gods were around that she hadn't been drinking anything – it was sure to have come out of her nose. "Sure, sir," she said. "And the Goa'uld have decided to stop decorating like a Vegas casino."

"It could happen!" Jack protested. Then gave her a trademark smirk. "Nah," he pronounced.

Sam couldn't resist – she reached over and patted his cheek. "Aww, you're funny, sir," she said. "And you need a shave."

His dark eyes twinkled and he snickered. "So, the hobo look doesn't work for me."

Sam tilted her head to one side and examined the man's unusual, handsome features. "No; not so much," she pronounced. She patted his cheek again. "Anyway; I could swear you were going to make coffee."

"Right," he said, but made no move.

"So move it, Airman!" she teased.

"Hey, you're ordering around a superior officer there, Major!" Jack grumbled good-naturedly, but got up nevertheless.

She watched him saunter over to her kitchen – no-one did a sexy saunter quite like that man – and begin to bang around. "You don't like taking orders from women, sir?" she inquired.

Jack's head disappeared into the refrigerator for a couple of seconds as he retrieved the can of coffee grounds. Then she heard him snicker. "Oh, in some places, Major, it's fine!" he taunted.

Then she distinctly heard him mumble: "Like the bedroom."

And her mind was instantly filled with all sorts of erotic imagery. Jack writhing naked underneath her, a sexy low moan rumbling out of his sweat-damp chest as she rode him to a …

Sam fanned herself rapidly with her hand. Damn; was it getting hot in here?

* * *

_Jesus, O'Neill! Whatcha have to say that for?_, Jack mourned as his mind was instantly assaulted by naughty images. Him writhing underneath Sam's nude slim body, moaning as she …

He shook his head quickly, then looked downward. _Yep; hard again_, he noted ruefully. He concentrated on boner-killing images.

Dead puppies, Goa'uld, Maybourne in a tutu …

Yeah; that did it.

He breathed out heavily in relief, then filled up the two coffee cups, staring at the contents mournfully. God, what idiot came up with the idea of taking the best stuff out of the coffee?

"Coffee's up, Sam!" he said, taking the coffee into the living room and handing one over to her.

"Thanks, sir," she said, with a small grimace. She was about as fond of decaf as he was.

"We're on down-time, Sam," he reminded her.

"Right, Jack." And now she leveled him with one of her giant beaming Sam Carter-esque smiles. "You know … I've really enjoyed the friendship we've had lately," she said.

"Me too," he told her. "I don't want that horrible awkwardness we had after the whole Xanax thing."

"Jack …," she protested mildly over his usual mangling of alien words.

"Zatarc," he humored her. "That whole situation just sucked." God, he was no linguist, but he could have come up with something better than that!

"Yeah," Sam agreed softly, some of the animation leaving her eyes. Doubtless she was remembering her role in Martouf's death.

Jack had his issues with the Tok'ra – they were Goa'uld, after all – but he'd come to trust Martouf after their experiences on Netu. Lantash …? Not so much. But Martouf had seemed to genuinely care for Sam – not just as a former host to Jolinar – and had treated SG-1 with respect even when disagreeing with them. Aside from Jacob, he was the only Tok'ra who didn't seem to view them as primitives.

He heard a small sniffle come from Sam's direction, and remembered that Fraiser had warned that she would be a little more emotional while she recovered from her coma. "C'mere, Sam," he muttered, sliding a gentle arm around her shoulders and giving her a hug.

* * *

Sam hated feeling so emotional, so vulnerable. She was a Major in the US Air Force, for crying out loud! And she thought she'd dealt with her grief for Martouf years ago. But sometimes Jolinar's memories of him would hit her, and she would grieve all over again – both as Sam his friend and as Jolinar his lover's symbiote.

She snuggled into Jack's embrace, appreciating the comfort. He was so warm, so caring … Nothing like the hard-ass she'd imagined him to be when she'd been preparing to meet him all those years ago.

As they were sitting side by side, he couldn't give her a full Jack hug, but she turned and dropped her head onto his shoulder, ducking her face into his neck. "Thanks, Jack," she mumbled, taking in his distinctive scent. A subtle, slightly spicy, cologne that mingled very nicely with his own natural scent.

She'd know he was around even if she was blind and deaf – simply by his great smell. Ever since her blending with Jolinar, her senses had become more acute, and she could identify each of her team-mates by their scent alone.

Not that she would ever tell them that – she could only imagine the plethora of 'sniffer dog' cracks that would come from her smart ass CO!

She took in another deep breath then, unable to resist, brushed a very faint kiss over the soft skin of his neck.

"You're welcome, Sam," Jack said, releasing her from the embrace and reaching out for his coffee once more. He took a sip, then grimaced, setting it back down on the table. His tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip, then: "Sam …," he added huskily, regarding her thoughtfully with those deep brown pools.

"Yes?" God, he had such beautiful eyes!

He leaned slowly over and she moistened her lips nervously as his hovered near hers …

And then the telephone rang.


	8. Changes

_Thanks for the great reviews!_

* * *

Jack O'Neill didn't know whether to hit something or to be relieved at the interruption. "You'd … ah … better answer that, Sam," he mumbled, moving away from the woman's warm body and inviting lips. 

"Uhm … right," Sam said, licking those lips and picking up the receiver. "Carter," she added. "Yes, sir." … "I'll be there within the hour, sir." … "Of course." … "Goodbye, sir."

She put the receiver down. "I've been called back to the base, sir," she said. "General Hammond's been trying to reach you, but your cell's switched off."

Oh, yeah.

They got up, their minds shifting quickly back to military mode, and Sam slipped her jacket back on, starting when Jack helped her settle it on her shoulders.

"Sam; I don't want things to be weird between us again," Jack said, sure he could see her withdrawing. "Chalk it up to a moment of temporary madness, if you like."

"Okay …," Sam said slowly.

Then, Jack being Jack, he just had to say it. He waggled his eyebrows. "Or the fact that you're insanely hot might have had something to do with it," he added.

Sam's eyes widened. And then she giggled. "Back atcha, Jack," she told him, slapping him lightly upside the head.

"Ah! Hmmm!" Jack coughed in embarrassment. The last time she'd told him he was hot, she'd been completely trashed – now she was dead sober. "Well … after you, Carter," he said, ushering her out of the house and into his truck. She had yet to be cleared for driving. "So … we still on for pizza tonight?" he added.

And she grinned at him. "Yeah," she said, then tapped his shoulder. "I think we'd better invite the guys along this time, though. You know how Teal'c pouts when he misses out on food."

"And can't forget Jonas," Jack put in. "That boy eats like he's about to starve to death." He slammed the door to the passenger side and made his way to his own side.

Sam snickered. "Well, he's hardly a boy, but you're right about his appetite."

"He's still young – like you and Rock Boy," Jack said, doing up his seat-belt and eyeing Sam pointedly till she clicked hers into place. "Makes me feel damn old."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Sir; you're not old."

Jack rolled his own eyes. "I am," he said flatly, "and most of the time I'm okay with that." Most of the time.

Sam's hand suddenly landed on his knee and squeezed it briefly, comfortingly. "Sir; you are not old. You're young. The way you move, your child-like behavior, that twinkle in your eyes when you tease any of us. You are young. The gray hair doesn't matter."

Jack turned out of her quiet little street and merged with a large phalanx of traffic. Then he patted her knee. "You're pretty sweet for a kick-ass Major," he said lightly.

He didn't need to look at her to know she was blushing. "Thanks, sir, but I meant it," she told him.

Then she snickered again and placed her hand briefly on his thigh.

High on his thigh.

That little witch.

Huh; maybe he wasn't so old after all, he mused as he felt his body's instant response.

* * *

A warm tingle shot through Sam's fingers at the feel of Jack's firm thigh under her hand. He had the thighs of a runner – long, lean and powerful. 

_Just … a couple … inches higher?_

Very, very tempting.

But no.

They were friends.

Friends who were strongly attracted to each other, but unless things changed that was all they could be.

And Sam would have his friendship if she couldn't have his love.

She sat back, muffling another giggle as she saw her big bad CO flush, then heard him clear his throat.

"Don't toy with me, Samantha," he warned her in a silky tone. "I still owe you for the eyeliner, remember?"

Jack O'Neill held grudges. He was the king of grudge-holding. And she should've known he wouldn't forget about the eyeliner any time soon. "Ahh … yes, sir," she said.

"You've had a reprieve while you've been in la-la land, but now that you're getting better …?"

The Goa'uld had nothing on one Colonel Jack O'Neill for menace. Sam was just glad he wasn't on their side.

He laughed softly and Sam couldn't help but smile. The Colonel laughed so rarely, it was nice to hear it.

And what that husky chuckle did for her temp …!

"I'll watch my back, sir," she told him.

"You do that."

* * *

"I'm sorry to have called you back while you're still recuperating, Major," General Hammond said, waving Sam and Jack into seats in front of his desk. 

"No problem, sir," Sam said.

"Hell; she's attached to this mountain with a bungee cord anyway," Jack chimed in, settling his lanky frame into his chair and shooting one of his biggest smirks at Sam.

Hammond gave him a mildly exasperated look, then picked up a slim sheaf of papers. "As you know; we've had to ship many of our discoveries to Area 51 as we don't have the manpower on this base for an exhaustive analysis."

"Yes, sir," Sam murmured.

Jack 'hmmm'ed in agreement, remembering the look of disappointment in Sam's eyes every time they had to ship out one of her big honkin' fancy pieces of alien tech. Like when a kid found out there was no Santa.

"To that end; the Joint Chiefs have directed that a Science Corps be established on this base – a joint effort between the Air Force and the Marines. All the scientists on the base – civilian and military – will join this team and will report directly to the Joint Chiefs, although day to day things will be handled by the SGC commander."

"And how does this affect us, sir?" Jack said, thinking that he could take a wild guess.

"I've been asked to offer Major Carter the chance to head up this team, with of course a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel," Hammond said, turning to Sam.

He knew it. "Way to go, Carter!" Jack said proudly. But he waited for the other shoe to drop.

Sam's eyes widened and her pretty face flushed with combined pleasure and embarrassment. "Thank you, sir," she said. "I'm honored."

"Of course, this means that you'll no longer be on SG-1," the General continued.

SG-1 … without Sam Carter? That was just … weird.

"Oh," Sam said blankly. "May I think about it, sir?" she asked.

"Of course," Hammond said comfortably. "It's a big change after nearly seven years, but in any other command you would never have stayed with the same team for this long."

"This isn't just any other command, General," Jack said.

"I'm aware of that, Colonel," Hammond told him.

_Note to self; don't piss off the General._

"If you take this new role, this will leave SG-1 one man short, and I don't propose to have a three-man team," Hammond continued. "And that brings me to you, Colonel."

_Now what did I do?_

"As you know, when I took command of this base, it was supposed to be a quick, simple assignment – my last one before retiring."

_Oh, crap …_

"This command has gotten bigger and bigger, and the Chief of Staff believes that there should be two Generals in command. And I happen to agree with him."

_Don't say it, General!_

"Jack; I'd like for you to take joint command of the SGC with me – with a long delayed and well deserved promotion to Brigadier General."

And the other shoe dropped.

In some ways, Jack knew it was time. While he was fit, strong and healthy, he knew that a man in his fifties couldn't go charging around the galaxy indefinitely. But, damn it, there was nothing that beat the rush of stepping through that wormhole! Did he really want to give that up?

"Sir; congratulations!" Sam said, her eyes shining with happiness and her cheeks glowing.

Jack took in a moment to appreciate the sight before returning his attention to the General. "Sir; I'm honored by your faith in me, but …".

He paused here. How to phrase this without sounding like he was shirking his duty …

Hammond suddenly chuckled. The man was laughing? At Jack? "Major; could you wait outside for a moment?" he asked.

The man probably didn't want Sam to witness a full-bird Colonel throwing a tantrum.

"Of course, sir," she said politely, then got up and headed out of the office.

Jack was lost in dark thoughts. He could just see it. A big honkin' desk full of papers. Or retirement. He'd tried retirement before and knew that option would drive him rapidly crazy. But paperwork? Oy!

After the door closed, Hammond chuckled again and folded his hands on the desk. "Relax, son," he said comfortably. "I have no intention of putting you in an administrative role."

Jack wasn't comforted. "So … what would I be doing? Sir?"

"Your security and tactical instincts are the sharpest I've ever seen in over thirty years in the service," Hammond said. "We've come too close to losing you far too many times in the last seven years, and it's time for that to end."

That was true. In fact, Jack and his 'kids' had died so many times that very few at the SGC regarded death as a permanent state any more.

"As Strategic Tactical Officer for the SGC" – _cool title_ – "you will spend time on the new Alpha Site, coordinate the scouting for a proposed Beta Site, work with the Prometheus crew on their security and provide tactical training and intelligence to the SG teams." Hammond eyeballed him. "You will be very busy, Colonel, and very challenged. It's more than time people got to know the intelligence you've tried to hide for so long."

Wow. Had anyone … ever … bought his dumb act?

"And if … big if … I take this on, what about T and Daniel?" he asked.

"As an archeologist, Doctor Jackson's role would fall under the proscribed Science Corps team and, he will go out with various SG teams as needed. And Teal'c …". Hammond paused. Then smiled. "I've finally been authorized to offer him a commission with the rank of Captain and second in command of SG-2."

Holy crap. Daniel would be bouncing off the ceilings with the chance to concentrate solely on archeology and languages. Sam deserved a promotion and the chance to lead her own team. And as for T … it was about damn time the Air Force recognized what he'd done for them, what he'd given up for them!

Could he deny his 'kids' the chance to spread their wings simply because he would miss the rush of being on SG-1?

He was a selfish son of a bitch at times, but could he be that selfish?

"And one other thing, Colonel," Hammond said, "although you would be a General, Major Carter will not report to you. I will oversee her officer evaluations."

"Sir?" Jack knew Hammond didn't buy his dumb act, but it was still worth a go.

The older man sighed. "I've noticed that you and she have become closer – much more flirtatious – over the last few weeks. And if I've noticed, you can bet other folks have."

He held up his hand as Jack opened his mouth to protest. "I trust you, son," he added quickly, "and I trust Major Carter. I've given you two a lot of latitude over the years as you make an unbeatable combination, but you're walking a fine line."

And this change would mean the frat regs wouldn't apply and Hammond's command wouldn't be in danger. But would Carter even want a relationship with him? Yes; he knew she was attracted to him, but attraction was one thing … being stuck with him was something else entirely.

"Just … something to consider, Colonel," Hammond said solemnly.

Were his eyes twinkling?

"Yes, sir," Jack said. "I'll think about it and let you know by the end of the day," he added.

"Good. And think hard, son."

* * *

**That evening:**

The five members of SG-1 (Jonas had been co-opted in recent weeks) sat in a quiet corner of Luigi's Pizzeria chowing down happily on pizza. "So, you're really gonna do it, Jack?" Daniel said. "Become a General?" He sounded like he'd swallowed a bug. "Brigadier General O'Neill … sounds weird."

"Deal with it, Daniel," the Colonel said around a mouthful of pepperoni. He chewed, then swallowed. "We all know it's time. Hell, I'm no kid any longer."

Sam rolled her eyes and grabbed her diet soda. She wasn't drinking tonight – she was determined to keep her edge for whenever Jack chose to wreak his revenge on her. "Ja-ack …," she protested, "stop calling yourself old. You're not old."

"Maybe not," Jack agreed, "but too many good kids are coming back in body bags or not at all. If I can pass on what we've learned the hard way, maybe we can preserve more lives." He nudged her knee with his. "Don't tell me you aren't itching to get your hands on all those alien toys, Carter!"

Sam grinned. "You've got me there, sir," she acknowledged, pressing her thigh to his hard muscled one and watching with glee when he gulped and his eyes darkened.

The Major Carter part of her was shouting; _He's your commanding officer!_

_Not for much longer_, her Sam part countered.

Gotta love the Joint Chiefs.

Jack gave an innocent boyish grin to Daniel. "And you can't tell me you really want to face death at every turn? You're not a soldier, you're a man of peace, and you shouldn't have to do what I've chosen to do."

"I accepted the risks when I joined SG-1, Jack," Daniel said. "I think I'm past the stage where I need your protection."

"That's exactly my point, Daniel!" Jack said. "You've become a damn fine soldier, and I'd trust you with my life in a heartbeat. But … you shouldn't have had to become a soldier. You only joined SG-1 because of Sha're."

"Sha're died years ago," Daniel said. "Yet I'm still here. If you're taking some desk job out of a misplaced sense of loyalty …".

"I'm not. Really!" Jack said. "And it's not a desk job. I'll still get to … ah … travel. Visit the other sites." He looked around. "Hell, I'll even get to play on the Prometheus," he added in low tones. He sat back, his thigh rubbing against Sam's. "Besides, it's a done deal," he added. "I've accepted the promotion and I'll get the stars next week. And Carter's going to head up the Science Corps."

Daniel shrugged. "So it looks like Teal'c and I have some thinking to do," he acknowledged.

Sam shivered at the warm pressure, then looked over at Teal'c. Broad, strong, compassionate and utterly dependable. "So … will you accept the commission?" she asked him.

"I am … unsure," Teal'c admitted. "When I came here, I pledged my allegiance to all your people; not to your Air Force. The Air Force has many enemies here, but I can no longer believe that someone is my enemy simply because of a differing belief system."

"I know," Sam said. Maybe Earth would have developed with less internal strife if they hadn't been left in such isolation. Yet it was perhaps that internal strife that had made the 'Tauri' more independent, much more of a threat to the Goa'uld, than other human-descended races.

"And you, Major Carter?" Teal'c said. "Are you looking forward to your new role?"

"I am," Sam said. "I'll miss traveling with you guys on a regular basis, but I'll be able to lead science teams through when necessary."

"Carter; you're a great scientist, with a big honkin' brain – we know that," said Jack. "But you're a soldier too. You'll miss the adrenaline rush from combat."

"I'll still see combat," Sam replied. "How many 'simple' scientific missions have we been on that have become totally FUBAR?"

Jack snickered and raised his glass. "Point taken … Colonel," he drawled.

_Colonel_ … Sam had to admit; that sounded pretty good. "Well … we've still got this week together," she said. "So, let's just have fun tonight, huh?"

"Good idea," Jonas said, finishing off his own pizza in record time, then leaning over to snag one of Teal'c's slices. Brave man. "So … this is the end of SG-1, huh?"

"Looks like it," Sam said morosely. SG-1 was the greatest. But times changed, and they had to change with them.

"You are both incorrect," Teal'c said. "The SG-1 designation will be no more, but we have become family. And family does not end simply because the roles of the family members change."

Teal'c never said much, so when he did speak it always had an impact. "You're right," Daniel admitted.

Teal'c dipped his head in his little bow, then smiled. "Of course," he stated simply. He picked up his glass of Scotch and soda. "To SG-1 and to family," he said.

Sam and her friends joined him and clinked their glasses. "To SG-1 and to family," they echoed.

* * *

Jack pulled up outside of Sam's house. "Here you are, milady!" he said. "Hold on!" He got out of the car and hurried round to Sam's side, pulling the door open. 

"Thank you, kind sir," she said, accepting his hand as she got out of the big truck. He held on a little longer than necessary and she felt a flush crawling up her cheekbones. "Jack?" she queried.

"So … Carter; how would you feel about maybe … going on a date with me?" he said. "After our promotion ceremony, of course."

A date? With Jack? Sam was both thrilled and terrified at the idea. Everything was changing so damn fast, and she was getting dizzy trying to keep up with it.

"Okay. Forget I asked," Jack said quickly. "Don't freak out, okay?" He took her other hand. "If you just want to be friends, that's fine. That's cool."

And the tingling shot throughout Sam's whole body. He really had no idea what a simple touch could do to her. "I … ah … don't want to be just friends, Jack," she said shyly. "Our friendship's great, but we could have that and … more." She coughed and looked downward, unable to believe how timid she felt. Strong, stubborn, kick-ass USAF Major Samantha Carter felt like a teenager with a crush on the boy next door.

"I agree," Jack said. Still holding her hands gently, he dipped his head and grazed his lips across hers, then ran his tongue testingly along her full bottom lip.

And Sam sighed, opening her lips to that sweet pink tongue. It entered her mouth, running over her teeth and gums before curling and stroking lazily with her own tongue. "Mmmmm," she sighed, using his hold on her hands to pull him closer into her.

His firm chest nestled into her soft curves, and one hand freed itself to roam down her back, to rest on her butt as the kiss deepened – became less sweet and more passionate.

Sometimes change was bad.

Sometimes change was good.

And sometimes change was fan-damn-tastic.


	9. Storms

_Sorry for the delay between posts - was debating whether or not to leave it at the previous chapter, but thought there was a little more left to be told. This is where the 'M' rating comes into effect - nothing graphic, but there are sexual references and some bad language. This isn't my usual fluffy style but, please, no flames!_

_I have written another chapter after this one, but that is certainly NOT suitable for this site (bad Aussie!), so it won't appear here. It has no plot, so is unnecessary (it was just fun to write - bad, BAD Aussie!). I'm working on the last chapter as we speak._

_Thanks for all the great reviews._

* * *

**Three months later:**

"Hey, Carter! Wait up!"

Brigadier General Jack O'Neill strode off the ramp and into the embarkation room, pulling his olive ball cap from his unruly gray head, and grasped Sam Carter's arm.

"What?" she practically snarled at him.

"You've had a bee up your ass for most of this mission, Colonel – just what is your problem?"

"There's no problem," Sam replied, pulling her arm away from his. "And if there was, this wouldn't be the place to discuss it. Sir."

With that, the woman handed her pack and P90 to one of the SFs and stormed out of the embarkation room.

"Nothing to see here!" Jack barked at the SFs. "Get back to work!"

He stomped out of the room and headed up to his office, running his hand through his hair. He'd catch up with Sam later and find out what exactly had got her panties in a bunch.

He let out a most un-General-like whine when he saw the backlog of mission reports from the Alpha Site he was expected to get to Hammond. Oy vey!

The last three months had been amazing. Sam and her science geeks … uh team … had visited many planets, bringing back a crap-load of technology to work on, and she was thoroughly enjoying her first command.

Teal'c had not accepted the commission with the USAF, offering instead to act as liaison between the growing Free Jaffa movement and the Tauri. In this way, he could also spend more time with his son and his old mentor.

Daniel was in his element as head of the archeological and linguistics sub-division.

And Jack …? It had been hard for him to make the adjustment at first – from "sticking it to the Man" to being "the Man". Or one of the Men, at least. But he appeared to have the unwavering loyalty of every man and woman on this base, and had already helped the crew of the Prometheus win a decisive victory against the forces of Bastet.

Sam and Jack were now dating – whenever their busy schedules would allow it – and so far things were going well. They'd had some arguments, naturally. They were both strong-willed, passionate people and were bound to come into conflict.

But usually he knew why they were fighting. This time, though, he was clueless.

* * *

Sam signed out for the day and walked out of the complex, needing to punch something. Or someone. Preferably a high-handed stubborn military jackass by the name of O'Neill. 

It was raining. Perfect. Just the match for her mood.

"Carter!"

Speak of the devil. She turned to see him jogging up to her position with an easy movement that gave the lie to his complaints about his age. "Sir," she said.

His eyes darkened and he grasped her arm, pulling her over to his truck. "Get in," he instructed.

"Like hell."

"Get in, Colonel, or I'll paddle that hot little ass of yours till you do," he snarled.

"You wouldn't."

"Don't push me, Sam. You really don't want to know what I'm capable of," the man told her.

She had some idea. She'd served with the man for seven years, and knew that he'd worked in Black Ops. He was a trained killer – likely an assassin. The first time she'd truly realized the darkness in him had been when he'd practically invited Alar into coming through the 'gate – only to meet a grisly death on Earth's iris.

He'd acted as jury, judge and executioner – and had shown no remorse. Yes, Alar had been committing genocide, but that glimpse into Jack's darker side had appalled Sam. It had taken her a while to get past that.

"Fine," she said, snatching her arm free and flouncing – even at her age – to the passenger side. "But I'm not going to your house. I want to be alone."

"Save the Garbo impersonation for another time," Jack shot at her, scrambling into the driver's seat and starting the truck. Then he shot off with a loud squeal of his tires.

Sam folded her arms and seethed silently as she watched the scenery whiz by – she was surprised the police weren't on his tail.

"Carter …," he said quietly.

"Jack – not now," she replied.

"For cryin' out loud!" he yelled. "You're acting like a child!"

"Well, you keep treating me like one, so why not?"

"What?" He turned with an alarming screech of his tires and made a sharp 180, causing several drivers to honk furiously. He opened his window. "And the same to you, asshole!" he yelled.

She'd never seen him this angry before – and she'd seen him in a lot of moods.

He pulled off onto a side road that led to the woods around the mountain, then skidded to a halt, gravel spraying around them. "This can't wait till we get to your house," he said. "What the hell's going on with you?"

"If you don't know, then I'm not going to tell you!" Sam yelled right back, unclipping her seat-belt and stomping out of the truck into the woods, uncaring of the rain that dripped down her neck and was beginning to soak through her tee shirt and skirt.

He stomped right after her, not even bothering to grab his jacket. "Carter; spare me the female histrionics. If you won't tell me what's going on as the guy you're involved with, then I'll order you. I'm still your superior officer."

_So, it's going to be like that, is it?_ "You're a higher ranking officer, General – that I'll grant you," she said nastily. "Superior is still debatable."

The crease between his brows deepened, and she thought for one second that he was actually going to hit her. He wouldn't – she knew that – but he was just that angry. "You … little … bitch," he said in low tones.

At that word, Sam lost the tenuous hold on her self-control. "You bastard," she hissed, her fist flying out to make contact with his cheek.

It never made its destination. Jack clasped it quickly in his large hand, then spun her round and pressed her face-up against a tree, driving her arm up between her shoulder-blades. "Don't even try it, Carter," he said. "You're good. But I'm better."

Sam shivered – not with anger, not with fear, but with arousal. The man's firm body was pressed against hers, his breath hot and heavy on the back of her neck, his arousal pulsing against her rear.

She was furious with herself! And with him. How could he turn her on like this?

"Let go of me!" she raged, flinging her head backward, hoping to make contact with his nose.

He let go of her and skipped quickly backward, giving her space to turn and face him. And he looked … glorious. His eyes black, his hair on end, his cheeks flushed and his fists clenching. He was pure, raw, untamed.

And she wanted him.

"Shit, Carter," he groaned, then grabbed her shoulders and crushed his lips to hers, backing her up against the tree. It wasn't the soft, sensual, exploratory kisses in which they'd indulged on their few rare dates. It was … wild and bruising.

And that was exactly what Samantha Carter wanted right now. Something raw and primitive. No soft words, no soft caresses. Just plain sex.

* * *

Sam would have collapsed but for his hands on her and the support of the tree. Their breathing came in heavy gasps and he withdrew quickly from her, then rested his forehead against hers for a moment. "Get cleaned up," he said gruffly, pulling his shorts and pants back up and handing her a Kleenex. 

Sam cleaned up the evidence of their first encounter, her insides still fluttering from both the climax and Jack's large heavy member. "Jack?" she said, feeling him withdraw emotionally.

"I'll drive you home," he said still gruffly.

Sam nodded her head, knowing not to push him for now. For all of his tantrums, Jack really didn't like to lose control. He needed her to be quiet for now.

* * *

Jack walked with Sam back to his truck, clenching his fists when she gave a small moan. _Shit; you hurt her, you son of a bitch!_ He knew it had been a long time for her. She was small and tight, and he'd been in enough locker rooms to know that he was … well, above average. 

It was one of his worst fears come true. He'd actually physically hurt the woman he loved. He'd become just another user – another SOB scarred by too many years of Black Ops.

She groaned softly as she got into the truck, and he felt … bits of him stand to attention. Bits that shouldn't have been ready for a while yet. He really was a son of a bitch. She was in pain, and he was aroused.

Then she giggled.

"Sam?" he said, still gruffly, but trying to hide the anger he felt. It was himself he was mad at, not her.

"We're just a bit … ridiculous," she said. She waved her hand around their surroundings. "Our first time – up against a tree. We didn't even get naked! And did we even manage five minutes?"

Jack gave a short huff of laughter. "We can remedy that," he told her. "Later." He took her hand gently, her warmth filling the hole that had developed.

"Promises, promises," she said, looking him straight in the eyes. The self-flagellation must have shown, for she grasped his chin. "Don't start beating yourself up, O'Neill," she told him. "Just think of it as … tension release."

"I hurt you, Carter," he almost whispered.

"Yes, you did. A little," she replied. "But we both needed it. And it was … exciting. I don't think I've ever …". And now the woman blushed! After screwing him up against a tree! She cleared her throat. "I don't think I've ever … climaxed so hard."

He wasn't going to preen. He wasn't going to be smug. He wasn't going to smirk. He was determined.

Heh. She hadn't seen anything yet.

* * *

Sam looked at the handsome man as he drove, his hands competent and steady on the wheel. Her insides did funny little flip-flops as she thought of him inside of her. 

Part of her was glad it had happened this way, despite her still-present anger with him. There'd been no seduction, no thinking, no time for her to get nervous.

Good Lord! She'd screwed Brigadier General Jack O'Neill against a tree. She – quiet, reserved scientist Samantha Carter – had actually had sex outdoors. In a public place. Where anyone could have seen them.

And now she could feel herself flush again. Her body hummed at the new delicious memory and she clenched her fists.

"You okay, Carter?" the sexy General asked, glancing her way.

"Yeah," she said. She put her hand softly on his thigh and couldn't help but notice the rather large bulge. "You're right," she added. "You deserve an explanation of why I've been so pissed with you the last couple of days."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I'll take you to your place."

The man was a lot more sensitive than he'd like anyone to believe. By taking her to her house rather than his, it meant the discussion would take place on her territory. Where she felt comfortable and from where she could ask him to leave.

And he would go. She knew that from their previous disagreements. He seemed to have an unerring instinct for when she genuinely needed to be alone.

It was just one of the many things she loved about him. And it was about time she told him that.

* * *

Jack followed Sam into her house and watched the woman appreciatively as she headed into the kitchen to grab two sodas. Damn; but she had a fine ass! 

She came back in and lobbed one of the cans at him. He caught it easily, then sat down next to her, fiddling awkwardly with the ring pull. It snapped off. "Damn," he mumbled.

"Give me that," she said, taking the can off him. She produced a small pocket knife then pressed on the can, pushing the tab down. "Physics," she said.

"An object's only as strong as its weakest point," Jack muttered, taking the soda back off her.

That look of big-blue-eyed surprise on Colonel Doctor Samantha Carter's face? It never got old.

"Okay …," she said, then opened her own soda and took a sip. She sat back and squeezed his thigh. "I've been pissed as hell with you the last few days, but it doesn't change anything," she said.

"About that …," he said.

Sam sighed. "It seems stupid," she began, "but …".

And now she stopped.

"Carter; you could never be stupid," Jack told her. "What's been bothering you?"

She sighed again. "It's just … that was my mission. It was science. Your mission was separate from mine."

"And …?"

"It was like you were still my CO!" she exclaimed in a rush. "Barking orders, brushing off my explanations, treating me like some weak link. I got more respect from you the first time we went to Abydos! At least then, you had no way of knowing how good I am at my job. But now …? It was like you couldn't see anything other than Sam, your girlfriend."

Jack thought back over the mission and realized that she was right. He'd shoved his oar in many times over her mission, when he should have left her to it. He'd been on that planet for strategic purposes – scouting it out as a possible Beta Site.

A couple of years ago, she hadn't been ready for command – her fascination with her science made her sometimes oblivious to dangers. But she'd grown and matured over the last year, and had become a fine all-round officer – someone to whom he would've been proud to give command of SG-1.

"You're right," he said softly. "And I'm sorry."

Her eyes grew wide again. "You are?" she said.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm stubborn, immature and a freakin' idiot at times, but I'm not too big to admit when I'm wrong." He grabbed her free hand. "I don't want to stop going on joint missions with you and your science g … hmm! We used to be able to work great together – we can be like that again. You just have to tell me when I'm stepping on your toes. No more sulking."

Sam sighed and curled into him, resting her golden head on his chest. "No more sulking," she agreed. Then she kissed his cloth-covered heart. "I love you, you know," she told him, placing a series of soft kisses on his neck.

And his heart pounded. She loved him? He wanted to race around in circles, punching the air and crowing. But he had a warm blonde Colonel curled into him doing marvelous things to his neck with her lips. "I love you too, Sam," he told her. "I don't know when it happened, but I've been wanting to say that for a long time."

"Me too," she said, then made a brief foray to the soft patch of skin just behind his earlobe.

"So … shall we take this to the bedroom?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows hopefully.

She laughed and punched him playfully in the stomach. "You're such a guy," she chided.

"Yep," he said, then followed her up the stairs, watching that sweet little ass wiggle, and humming off-key.

To his delight, she yanked her damp tee shirt over her head and flung it at him.

And now Jack was confronted with soft Sam skin. Lots of soft Sam skin. Lots of damp soft Sam skin.

He was one lucky man. And he was never letting her go!


End file.
